Softly flowed the current of an ancient river Where it circled wide three beauteous emerald isles, Ceaseless lapped the waves upon the pebbled shore, Fringed with willows silvery, drooping evermore. High upon the beach an Indian village stood, Twelve low wigwams built upon the seasoned wood. Dark-eyed squaws the noonday meal prepared For the lordly hunters who on bounty fared. Winter's chase was over, each hunter smoked in peace (Joy in heart that Spring at length had brought release).