Where the Ponies Come to Drink (Henry Herbert Knibbs Poems)
Up in Northern Arizonathere's a Ranger-trail that passesThrough a mesa, like a fa(Henry Herbert Knibbs)
Up in Northern Arizonathere's a Ranger-trail that passesThrough a mesa, like a fa(Henry Herbert Knibbs)
HEAR now a tale of the deer-star,Tale of the days agone,When a youth rose up for the huntingIn the bluish ...
Once I heard a Hobo, singing by the tie-trail,Squatting by the red rail rusty with the dew:Singing of the firelight, ...
My dam was a mustang white and proud,My sire was as black as a thunder cloud;I was foaled on the ...
The huge red-buttressed mesa over yonder Is merely a far-off temple where the sleepy sun is burning Its altar fires of pinyon ...
Hohokams trod a river trail In a desert's middle ages;The warriors hunted fox and quail And learned what drouth presages.The tined yellow ...
The huge red-buttressed mesa over yonderIs merely a far-off temple where the sleepy sun is burningIts altar fires of pinyon ...
Gazing over painted sands Beneath the brazen skiesIs not a feat that one can doWith desiccated eyes.Eyes were given to this ...
Fuera del mundo que batalla y luceSin recordar a su infeliz cautivo,A un trabajo servil sujeto vivoQue a la muerte ...
Buff pueblo in the easton lava crusted landhung above the river bedsilently of sand:Gauntly crumbled silhouettedust of former agessinking to ...
OVER the heart of the west, the Taos desertCircles an eagle,And it's dark between me and him.The sun, as he ...
There are strange things told of spirits bold,And the trail to Sante Fe,There is many a tale of the Chisholm ...
The prairie zephyrs have dropped to rest,And the dust-clouds settle down;The sun dips low in the golden west,O'er the mesa ...
She was nothin' much to look at, that there old fleabitten gray.She'd a cranky disposition, but you liked her any ...
When you have lived out in the West,Till it becomes a part of you,And you've a feeling in your breastNo ...
When I'm ridin' alone in the night-time way out on the desolate range,With the moon shinin' down through the cloud-hills ...
Drear are the prairies; the ranges are silent;Mournfully whispers each soft, passing breeze;Down in the canyon and eddying murmurEchoes the ...
He who has lived on mountainsAnd echoed the wind through rain,And heard the crash of tall thunder,Hears nothing on a ...
Have you gazed on naked grandeur where there's nothing else to gaze on, Set pieces and drop-curtain scenes galore, Big ...
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