I bear my burden of the shame,—
I shun it not, and naught forget,
However much I may regret:

I claim some candor to my name,

And courage cannot change or die,-
Did they deserve to die? they died.
Let justice then be satisfied,
And as for me, why, what am I?

The standing side by side till death,
The dying for some wounded friend,
The faith that failed not to the end,
The strong endurance till the breath
And body took their ways apart,
I only know. I keep my trust.
Their vices! earth has them by heart.
Their virtues! they are with their dust.

How wound we through the solid wood, With all its broad boughs hung in green, With lichen mosses trail'd between!

How waked the spotted beasts of prey,
Deep sleeping from the face of day,
And dashed them like a troubled flood
Down some defile and denser wood!

And snakes, long, lithe and beautiful As green and graceful bough'd bamboo,

Did twist and twine them through and through
The boughs that hung red-fruited full.
One, monster-sized, above me hung,
Close eyed me with his bright pink eyes,
Then raised his folds, and sway'd and swung,
And lick'd like lightning his red tongue,
Then oped his wide mouth with surprise;
He writhed and curved and raised and low-

er'd

His folds like liftings of the tide,
And sank so low I touch'd his side,
As I rode by, with my bright sword.

The trees shook hands high overhead,
And bow'd and intertwined across
The narrow way, while leaves and moss
And luscious fruit, gold-hued and red,
Through all the canopy of green,

Let not one sunshaft shoot between.

Birds hung and swung, green-robed and

red,

Or droop'd in curved lines dreamily,

Rainbows reversed, from tree to tree,
Or sang low hanging overhead-
Sang low, as if they sang and slept,
Sang faint like some far waterfall,

And took no note of us at all,

Though nuts that in the way were spread
Did crush and crackle as we stept.

Wild lilies, tall as maidens are,
As sweet of breath, as pearly fair
As fair as faith, as pure as truth,
Fell thick before our every tread,
In fragrant sacrifice to ruth.
The ripen'd fruit a fragrance shed
And hung in hand-reach overhead,
In nest of blossoms on the shoot,
The bending shoot that bore the fruit.

How ran lithe monkeys through the

leaves !

How rush'd they through, brown clad and

blue,

Like shuttles hurried through and through

The threads a hasty weaver weaves!

How quick they cast us fruits of gold,

Then loosen'd hand and all foothold,
And hung limp, limber, as if dead,
Hung low and listless overhead;
And all the time with half-oped eyes
Bent full on us in mute surprise-
Look'd wisely, too, as wise hens do
That watch you with the head askew.

The long day through from blossom'd trees There came the sweet song of sweet bees, With chorus-tones of cockatoo

That slid his beak along the bough,

And walk'd and talk'd and hung and swung, In crown of gold and coat of blue,

The wisest fool that ever sung,

Or had a crown, or held a tongue.

Oh!when we broke the somber wood
And pierced at last the sunny plain,
How wild and still with wonder stood
The proud mustangs with banner'd mane,
And necks that never knew a rein,
And nostrils lifted high, and blown,
Fierce breathing as a hurricane:
Yet by their leader held the while

In solid column, square, and file

And ranks more martial than our own!

Some one above the common kind, Some one to look to, lean upon, I think is much a woman's mind; But it was mine, and I had drawn A rein beside the chief while we Rode through the forest leisurely; When he grew kind and question'd me Of kindred, home, and home affair, Of how I came to wander there, And had my father herds and land And men in hundreds at command? At which I silent shook my head, Then, timid, met his eyes and said, "Not so. Where sunny-foot hills run Down to the North Pacific sea, And Willamette meets the sun

In many angles, patiently

My father tends his flocks of snow,

And turns alone the mellow sod
And sows some fields not over broad,
And mourns my long delay in vain,
Nor bids one serve-man come or go;