The sun is low, and lodge and tree
Long shadows now impart,
But a sadder, deeper shadow fell
On Metoka’s young heart;
For now the dreaded hour had come
When she abroad must rove,
Away from childhood’s happy home,
With the man she could not love.
She took her sister by the hand
To bid a sad farewell,
And these the soft and tender words
From her trembling lips that fell.