Strange record of a people past away,
Once numerous as the leaves the forests shed,
As mindful of man's frailty, and decay,
Upon their mounds, and grave-hills of their dead.
Here lived, and planned, and toiled another race,
A pre-historic race, forgotten long;
Who in the speech of men have left no trace,
Unknown alike to history, and to song.
Yet were they to ourselves, as men, allied,
In God's own image made, though of the earth;
And, though the help of Learning's stores denied,
Destined with us to an immortal birth.
With reverence may we ope their graves, and tread
With thoughtful minds the cities of the dead.