By BEATRICE BARRY.
Ours is the "neutral nation"
In this war that the white men wage,
And we on the Reservation
Care naught how the white men rage.
Where are the forest spaces
That the red man was free to roam?
And what of the woodland places
Where the red man made his home?
Gone! There's a paleface house
Where the brave had his strong tepee,
And the white man's cattle browse
Where the wild herds used to be.
For our power sites he reaches
While both smoothly he speaks and well
Of the God whose love he teaches
And whose justice he would tell.
O Great White Spirit who rideth
On the wings of the Winter gale,
Though thy children's faith abideth,
Alas! they have lost the trail.