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PRAIRIE SONGS
So it is that to-day, alone,
In a white-washed cottage at Torreon,
A brown-skinned woman with sad, dark eyes
Looks on her child at his play, and sighs,
Knowing well she will hark in vain
For her husband's step at the door again.
Or watch, as the trains steam back and forth,
For his mogul engine out of the North.
So it is that when evening falls,
Draping the dull adobe walls
Fold on fold in its tender mist,
Purple and blue and amethyst,
And Nacozari kneels down to pray
At the vesper call from the chapel gray,
Many an orison of love
Is wafted up to the stars above
For the peace of Jesus Garcia's soul;
He who had saved the village whole
By the utmost gift which a man can give —
Life, that his fellow men might live. |
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