To Houston at Gonzales town, ride, Ranger, for your life,
I nor stop to say good-by to-day to home or child or wife;
But pass the word from ranch to ranch, to every Texan sword,
That fifty hundred Mexicans have crossed the Nueces ford,
With Castrillon and perjured Cos, Sesm~ and Almonte,
And Santa Anna ravenous for vengeance and for prey.
They smite the land with fire and sword; the grass shall never grow
Where northward sweeps that locust horde on San Antonio.
Now who will bar the foeman’s path, to gain a breathing-space,
Till Houston and his scattered men shall meet him face to face?
Who holds his life as less than naught when borne and honor call,
And counts the guerdon full and fair for liberty to fall?
Oh, who but Barrett Travis, the bravest of them all!
With sevenscore of riflemen to play the rancher’s game,
And feed a counter-fire to halt the sweeping prairie flame:
(James Jeffrey Roche)
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Based on Topics: Man Poems, Life Poems, Faces PoemsBased on Keywords: antonio, mexicans, barrett, riflemen, houston, breathing-space, travis, texan, rancher, gonzales, counter-fire