Classic and Contemporary Poetry
IOWAY TO IOWA, by MAY M. HUNT First Line: From his primal home in the woodland Last Line: For their chief so brave and true. Subject(s): Iowa; Names; Native Americans; Indians Of America; American Indians; Indians Of South America | ||||||||
From his primal home in the woodland Of Wisconsin, on the Great Lakes, A large band wandered southward; And here the story takes us To the Mississippi river At the mouth of the Iowa, And here they camped on a sandy beach, And here decided to stay. 'Twas here the little village of Iowaville was known, Until in a war with the Sacs and the Foxes, Their power was overthrown, Their village annihilated, And the Ioway tribe alone, Being depleted by warfare, Were forced to move farther on. Of a roving, gypsylike nature, They wandered north, these men, And here at the Pipestone quarries Took up their abode again. 'Twas here they resumed their former trade Of weaving, and fashioning pottery, For those were the things they made. They molded bowls of the pipestone clay, Made peace pipes or calumets, And for dyes used the native berries and fruits as they could get. They spun thread from the fibrous roots of trees And shrubs, and of these wove cloth For mats, of which they made teepees. The women did most of this kind of work, While the men did the hunting and trapping. But later this band came back again Led by good chief Mauhaugaw. They settled on land over near Des Moines, But life was much the same Constant warfare with other tribes, But their heaviest sorrow came When good old Chief Mauhaugaw Was murdered by the Sioux -- It caused much confusion in the tribe This warrior to lose. But his little son Mahaska Had now to manhood grown, So he became their leader, And proved a worthy one. But the white man was fast advancing Within the red man's bounds, And Mahaska's people must bid farewell To familiar hunting grounds. The Great Father at Washington Would always send his men To treaty with the Indians, and then -- Give them other tracts of land To use as their very own; Thus we see how Iowa Became the white man's home. But this early tribe of Indians, As this story we relate, Gave to our land the name we bear; And not only to our State, But we find the Iowa river, And Iowa City too, And the county of Mahaska For their chief so brave and true. | Other Poems of Interest...GHOSTS AT KE SON by JOSEPHINE JACOBSEN THE OLD INDIAN by ARTHUR STANLEY BOURINOT SCHOLARLY PROCEDURE by JOSEPHINE MILES ONE LAST DRAW OF THE PIPE by PAUL MULDOON THE INDIANS ON ALCATRAZ by PAUL MULDOON PARAGRAPHS: 9 by HAYDEN CARRUTH THEY ACCUSE ME OF NOT TALKING by HAYDEN CARRUTH |
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