Sauk chief Black Hawk, Autobiography of Ma-ka-tai-me-she-kia-kiak…
“ The pale moon still creeps from her daily rest, Throwing her rays o'er the river's dark breast, The katy-did and cricket, I trow, In days gone by, chirruped, even as now. Indian! thy camp-fires no longer are smoldering, They bones 'neath the forest moss long have been mouldering, The "Great Spirit" claims thee. He leadeth they tribe, To new hunting-grounds not won with a bribe. On thy Watch Tow'r the pale face his home now makes, His dwelling, the site of the forest tree takes, Gone are thy wigwams, the wild deer now fled, Black Hawk, with his tribe, lie silent and dead. ”
