Alice Paul

I watched a river of women,

Rippling purple, white and golden,

Stream toward the National Capitol.

Along its border,

Like a purple flower floating,

Moved a young woman, worn, wraithlike.

All eyes alight, keenly observing the marchers.

Out there on the curb, she looked so little, so lonely,

Few appeared even to see her;

No one saluted her.

Yet commander was she of the column, its leader;

She was the spring whence arose that irresistible river of women

Streaming steadily towards the National Capitol.