Nor e’er hath trod or shall upon the earth
A race like ours of true Dakota birth.
Our chiefs and sages, who so wise as they
To counsel or to lead in peace or war,
And heal the sick by deep mysterious law.
Our beauteous warriors lithe of limb and strong,
Fierce to avenge their own and others’ wrong,
What gasping terror smites their battle song
When, night-birds gathering near the dawn of day,
Or wolves in chorus ravening for the prey,