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.