Well, one day, after quite a doze,
A month or two in length, suppose,
He waked, and, as he'd often done,
Strolled forth to see the mid-day sun;
But while unconsciously he slept,
The sand within his moccasins crept;
At every step some pain he'd feel,
'Twas now the toe, now near the heel;
At length his Sachemship grew cross,
The pebbles to the sea he'd toss,
And with a moccasin in each hand,
He threw on either side the sand;
Then in an instant there appear
Two little isles, the Sachem near!
One as the Vineyard now is known,
The other we may call our own.
At ease, he freely breathed awhile,
Which sent the fogs to bless our isle;
And turning East, with quickened motion,
The chill, bleak winds came o'er the ocean.
Ill-judging Sachem! would that you
Had never shaken _here_ that shoe.
Or, having done so, would again,
And join Nantucket to the main!"
Having had a peep within the nest, you sigh for the return of the bird,
and we will on.
CHAPTER III.
THE VOICE OF CHILDHOOD.
"Ah! Well may sages bow to thee,
Dear, loving, guileless Infancy!
And sigh beside their lofty lore
For one untaught delight of thine;
And feel they'd give their learning's store,
To know again thy truth divine.
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