Upon a jolting wagon sent she rode
Across the trackless prairie to the west,
Or trudged behind the oxen with a goad,
A sleeping child clasped tightly to her breast,
Frail flesh rebelling, but spirit never--
What tales the dark could tell of woman's tears!!--
Her bravery incentive to endeavor;
Her laughter spurring strong men past their fears.
O to her valor and her comeliness
A commonwealth today owes its white domes
Of State, its fields, its highways, and its homes--
Its cities wrested from the wilderness.
Its bones in memory above the hand
That gentled, woman-wise, a savage land.
--Ethol Romig Fuller