From The Topeka State Journal, October 28, 1914. By Helen Hay Whitney.
They lit for me no torches
When I came home to die,
For I had sinned against the land
Where soon I low must lie.
Black darkness hung about me;
The dark woods knew my shame;
The little lovely leaves drew back
And shivered as I came.
I, who had laughed and loved them,
Who solved their secret streams,
Forgetting honor, grasped for gain
In barter with my dreams.
From man I ask no quarter,
No pardon for my birth;
But O deep heart, betrayed and wronged,
Forgive me, Mother Earth.