Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, INDIANS (DEERFIELD MEMORIAL HALL), by LEONORA SPEYER


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

INDIANS (DEERFIELD MEMORIAL HALL), by             Poem Explanation         Poet's Biography
First Line: Dulcimer, play me a little tune
Last Line: Praise be for the story's end!
Subject(s): Deerfield, Massachusetts; Massacres; Native Americans; Indians Of America; American Indians; Indians Of South America


Dulcimer, play me a little tune --

Mercy, died at the age of two,
Read the tablets, and find her name,
"Killed on the door-stone," does it say?
(Whimpered once as the Redskin came),
I remember the winter day.
What shall I play?

Dulcimer, play me a dancing tune --

David trod them merrily,
"Died on the Meadows," as settlers die
(You passed the meadows, piled with hay),
And never a curl to know him by;
Jig or reel, or a minuet?
What shall I play?

Dulcimer, play me a song of love --

Hannah Sheldon, thirty-nine,
Died like a woman, beside her man,
There's the door where they hacked their way,
Back in the days of good Queen Anne:
Bullets or scalps, or a ransom to pay.
What shall I play?

Dulcimer, dulcimer, play no more!
Or tell me a tune of wedding-bells --

Eunice, Joanna, little ones,
"Redeemed," at last, but they chose to stay,
Married their savages, bore them sons,
Happily prayed as Redskins pray --

Ancient dulcimer, dusty old friend,
Praise be for the story's end!





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