The Water's Murmur Is The Voice Of

The White Man's God Cannot Love Our People Or He Would Protect Them. They Seem To Be Orphans Who Can Look Nowhere For Help. How Then Can We Be Brothers?

Earth Does Not Belong To Us; We Belong To Earth. Take Only Memories, Leave Nothing But Footprints.

We Know That The White Man Does Not Understand Our Ways. One Portion Of Land Is The Same To Him As The Next, For He Is A Stranger Who Comes In The Night And Takes From The Land Whatever He Needs. The Earth Is Not His Brother, But His Enemy, And When He Has Conquered It, He Moves On.

There Is No Quiet Place In The White Man's Cities. No Place To Hear The Unfurling Of Leaves In Spring, Or The Rustle Of An Insect's Wings. But Perhaps It Is Because I Am A Savage And Do Not Understand. The Clatter Only Seems To Insult The Ears.

I Will Not Dwell On, Nor Mourn Over, Our Untimely Decay, Nor Reproach My Paleface Brothers With Hastening It, As We Too May Have Been Somewhat To Blame.