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THE CALL OF THE PLAINS
H
O! wind of the far, far prairies!
Free as the waves of the sea! Your voice is sweet as in alien street The cry of a friend to me! You bring me the breath of the prairies, Known in the days that are sped, The wild geese's cry and the blue, blue sky And the sailing clouds o'er head! My eyes are weary with longing
For a sight of the sage grass gray,
For the dazzling light of a noontide bright
And the joy of the open day!
Oh, to hear once more the clanking
Of the noisy cowboy's spur,
And the south wind's kiss like a mild caress
Making the grasses stir.
I dream of the wide, wide prairies
Touched with their glistening sheen, The coyotes' cry and the wind-swept sky And the waving billows of green! And oh, for a night in the open Where no sound discordant mars, And the marvelous glow, when the sun is low, And the silence under the stars! 172 |
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