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.