This is a remarkable poem, in that it evokes the ecological and ethnic concerns of a much later day than its date of origin. I don't know if the streams really did run much fuller, as Bryant's Indian asserts, when his people were the land's masters, but it's a very arresting image. Does it remind anyone else of Rachel Carson's Silent Spring?
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This is a remarkable poem, in that it evokes the ecological and ethnic concerns of a much later day than its date of origin. I don't know if the streams really did run much fuller, as Bryant's Indian asserts, when his people were the land's masters, but it's a very arresting image. Does it remind anyone else of Rachel Carson's Silent Spring?