Note 1 — THE HURON; OR, PUPIL OF NATURE.[1] (continued 2)
Reading edition
In the Play, Civilization, the Huron musingly soliloquizes:
"And what is love to man? An only gift Too precious to be idly thrown away! For is it not as precious as our land, Which, heeding not another's golden sky— Soft airs, sweet flowers, hill and dale conjoin'd By nature's cunning past comparison— Is still our land; and, as our land, surpasses Far such fairy worlds?
"There are some dreams that last a life—mine Is one of these. I shall dream on till death Shall end the vision!
"It is not hard to die! And life is but A shadow on the wall—a falling leaf Toy'd with by autumn winds—a flower—a star Among the infinite, infinitesimal! We are but breath whispering against the wind,— Sand in the desert!—dew upon the sea!"—E.