Linda Sue Wisecup

“Wild roved an Indian maid,

Bright Alfarata,

Where flow the waters

Of the blue Juniata.

Strong and true my arrows are

In my painted quiver,

Swift goes my light canoe

Adown the rapid river.

“Bold is my warrior good,

The love of Alfarata,

Proud wave his sunny plumes

Along the Juniata.

Soft and low he speaks to me,

And then his war-cry sounding

Rings his voice in thunder loud

From height to height resounding.

“So sang the Indian maid,

Bright Alfarata,

Where sweep the waters

Of the blue Juniata.

Fleeting years have borne away

The voice of Alfarata,

Still flow the waters

Of the blue Juniata.”

Laura Ingalls Wilder, Little House on the Prairie