Near the town of Olivet,
One day in the fall of the year
A band of Indians met:
Of the tribe of the Sac and Fox,
Seventy-two of the band,
They pitched their tents in the woods__
Their old reservation land.
A peaceful civilized tribe,
With no ambition to roam:
The white man had crowded them out
And driven them far from home:
Had alloted them a reserve,
Driven them to it with pride,
In a low malarious swamp,
Where many sickened and died.
Sad fate of the Sac and Fox__
The white man rules in his might:
A detachment of soldiers came
And drove them back in the night.
__John T. Vanderlip.
Poets and Poetry of Kansas
Edited by Thomas W. Herringshaw
(Chicago: American Publishers' Association. 1894)