HIGH from the ground, and blown upon by air Sun-sanctified; caught from corruption's mold, Girdled by streams amidst the foot-hills fair, With wind-chants making music sweet and old, This red man rests. Unto the elements He doth return; his soul soars glad and free, And e'en his body seems, in going hence, To cry, "O grave, where is thy victory!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LAURA SLEEPING; ODE by CHARLES COTTON FEELINGS OF A REPUBLICAN ON THE FALL OF BONAPARTE by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY THE PITY OF LOVE by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS AN UNTIMELY THOUGHT by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH DEATH by MALTBIE DAVENPORT BABCOCK |