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THE BANDIT'S GRAVE |
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5Ti JTID lava rock and glaring sand,
IVl 'Neath the desert's brassy skies, Bound in the silent chains of death A border bandit lies. The poppy waves her golden glow Above the lowly mound; The cactus stands with lances drawn,— A martial guard around. His dreams are free from guile or greed,
Or foray's wild alarms.
No fears creep in to break his rest
In the desert's scorching arms.
He sleeps in peace beside the trail,
Where the twilight shadows play,
Though they watch each night for his return
A thousand miles away.
From the mesquite groves a night bird calls When the western skies grow red; The sand storm sings his deadly song Above the sleeper's head. His steed has wandered to the hills And helpless are his hands, 152 |
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