Yet, for this vision of the Past,
This glance upon its darkness cast,
My spirit bows in gratitude
Before the Giver of all good,
Who fashioned so the human mind,
That, from the waste of Time behind,
A simple stone, or mound of earth,
Can summon the departed forth;
Quicken the Past to life again,
The Present lose in what hath been,
And in their primal freshness show
The buried forms of long ago.
As if a portion of that Thought
By which the Eternal will is wrought,
Whose impulse fills anew with breath
The frozen solitude of Death,
To mortal mind were sometimes lent,
To mortal musings sometimes sent,
To whisper-even when it seems
But Memory's fantasy of dreams--
Through the mind's waste of woe and sin,
Of an immortal origin!
1841.
FUNERAL TREE OF THE SOKOKIS.
Polan, chief of the Sokokis Indians of the country between Agamenticus
and Casco Bay, was killed at Windham on Sebago Lake in the spring of
1756. After the whites had retired, the surviving Indians "swayed" or
bent down a young tree until its roots were upturned, placed the body of
their chief beneath it, then released the tree, which, in springing back
to its old position, covered the grave.
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