The Poem That Named a State: How the Wyoming Valley Became a Symbol—and Then a State

Long before cowboys were riding the open plains of the American West, before Yellowstone had tourists or even a name, there was Wyoming—but not the state.

There was only the Wyoming Valley, a stretch of lush, flat riverland nestled between the hills of northeastern Pennsylvania, shaped by the Susquehanna River and soaked in history. If you’ve ever wondered why there's a Wyoming, Pennsylvania and a Wyoming, the State, the answer is surprising, poetic—and honestly, kind of beautiful.

It all started with a poem. A long, dramatic, and wildly popular 19th-century poem that turned a real massacre into national mythology.

A Valley with a Name from the Lenape

First things first: the name Wyoming is Native American in origin, not Western.

The Lenape people called the area something close to Maughwauwame or Wimink, meaning “at the big flats” or “broad river meadows.” The term described the open, fertile plains along the Susquehanna River—perfect land for farming, foraging, and fishing. The name stuck. When Connecticut settlers arrived in the mid-1700s and began squatting—er, settling—in the area, they adopted the name from the Lenape.

So when you hear “Wyoming,” think lush Pennsylvania lowlands—not the Rocky Mountain West. At least, not at first.

The Massacre That Echoed Across a Nation

On July 3, 1778, the peaceful image of the valley was shattered. During the height of the Revolutionary War, a force of British Loyalists and Iroquois warriors attacked the Connecticut settlers who had built up homes and farms in the region. What followed was brutal: hundreds of militia men were killed, many were tortured, and others were scalped or captured. Homes were burned, families were scattered, and the region was left devastated.

This event became known as the Wyoming Massacre.

But something strange happened in the decades after: the massacre, grim and tragic as it was, became romanticized. A symbol of patriotic sacrifice. And that’s where the poet comes in.

Enter: Thomas Campbell, Romantic Poet, Distant Witness

In 1809, Scottish poet Thomas Campbell published a work titled “Gertrude of Wyoming: A Pennsylvanian Tale.”

Here’s the kicker:

• Campbell had never been to Wyoming.

• He wasn’t American.

• He knew about the massacre, but filtered it through the lens of Romanticism—a movement more concerned with emotion and idealism than historical nuance.

The poem tells the fictional story of Gertrude, a sweet, nature-loving heroine raised in the idyllic Wyoming Valley. She falls in love, waxes poetic about the landscape, and—spoiler alert—dies tragically during the massacre. It’s got all the 19th-century hits: doomed love, noble savages, evil British loyalists, flowery language, and noble death.

What it lacked in accuracy, it made up for in vibes. The poem was a hit in both Europe and America. Suddenly, the name Wyoming became shorthand for natural beauty, patriotic suffering, and romantic nostalgia.

How a Poem Named a State

Fast-forward to the mid-1800s. As new territories were being carved out of the western frontier, the United States government needed a name for a certain stretch of land nestled between the Dakotas and Utah.

One of the early candidates? Wyoming Territory.

It was chosen precisely because of the poem. The story of Gertrude, the romanticized tragedy, and the lush, almost mythical depiction of the original Wyoming Valley made the name sound perfect for a new American Eden.

And so in 1868, the Wyoming Territory was born.
By 1890, it became the 44th U.S. state.
The name stuck, despite the terrain looking nothing like the Susquehanna river valley that inspired it.

So next time you think of Wyoming—the state of rugged peaks and prairies—you’re really thinking of a rebranded version of Northeastern Pennsylvania.

Why It Still Matters

This story is more than trivia. It’s a perfect example of how language, art, and place intertwine. A massacre becomes a poem. A poem becomes a symbol. A symbol becomes a state.

And underneath it all, the Wyoming Valley remains—quiet, beautiful, and filled with stories. From Forty Fort to West Pittston, from the Lenape people to Connecticut squatters to Romantic poets, this land has shaped far more than just the locals who call it home.

It helped name a state.

And all because someone read a poem.