|Share page||Visit Us On FB|
OTHER VERSE 107
He strides his noble thoroughbred with manly, easy grace,
And sits the saddle like a sheik, and rides a rattling pace.
His hair falls white and long adown his shoulders strong and wide,
And all his bearing has the poise of manliness and pride.
A sovereign born and citizen of this fair Western land,
He rose among his fellows in the custom of command;
His boyhood heard the wailing that was echo of the yell
When the savage made the border seem the environs of hell;
With his dying father's spirit, his hunting-knife and gun,
He drove the bronze barbarians into the setting sun,
'Mong the willows by the river, on mesa, hill and
plain, They fell beneath his horses' hoofs, and 'fore his
leaden rain. Full well he wreaked his vengeance, and he
blazed a Western path,