A historical poem based on the Harding Massacre in the Wyoming Valley of Pennsylvania |
Freedom’s Price The Story of Amy Harding Her family came for freedom and to farm Along the Susquehanna River Valley Not knowing her children would come to harm By Indians bribed by the Tory. Amy joyed in freedom’s declaration For she did not want the rule of a king But only trust in God’s provision For food, shelter and each simple blessing. For close by was the Baptist meeting house Where grace, truth and simple-child-like faith Were taught and shared with all who met there Including her children, for whom she cared. But freedom had a price that was greater Than she would suspect that July morning As Benjamin, Stukley and Junior Left the fort for farming and hunting. When Junior returned there was fear in his eyes Enemies shot and killed his brothers Pain, sorrow and grief were voiced in her cries: The deep despair of a loving mother. Their bodies were guarded by two Indians. Who knew if they wanted more victims? The Indians were killed just in case. So the boy’s bodies would be buried in a decent place. As Amy prepared the bodies for burial She may have wondered what freedom was worth Till she let Heaven give peace to her soul And the strength she needed to go forth. |