Tescott

 

Somewhere out West there lies a sloping plain

That looks across the winding river track

A mile away to northward, bluish-black

With elm and cottonwood, then up again

Rises to meet the distant sky. Green grain

And greener grass in spring; if fall wheat stack

And pink brown prairie grass, stock at the rack,

And marvels of sky this landscape doth contain.

Here was my dear one born and passed her days,

Familiar with each bird and flower and tree,

Light-hearted, supple-thewed, a boy in ways,

Knew nature, music, books, but knew not me.

How beautiful her youth! yet I confess,

The memory breeds in me strange loneliness.

William Herbert Carruth