Fools! I have heard the beat of the last Rodeo On the white dust roads that writhe in the Sacramento; On the scorching roads that wind in the western valley, Arid and vast, but food for a lighted match. And in the eye of my quickening mind I have seen the long line of cow-punchers Riding on plunging bronchos; Cow-punchers browned and burned beneath their broad fedoras. The lariat, coiled on the saddle horn, Hangs prepared to foil the struggles Of the maddened bullock and the savage horse, Pitted against the steel of its slender fiber. Red, green and orange trappings in bold confusion Collide with the sun-parched landscape. Only the spotted steer is brooding, Whose dripping flanks quiver in sullen anger. He loathes the swarthy Peon astride his rigid back: That half-breed devil worthy a bed of cactus— Deserving a dinner of chaparral. The sweeping yells of the wild cortege Echo across the prairies. The swearing, virile sons of another epoch dash on, Ploughing the spur in the sides of impetuous pintos; And only the memory of their flaunting colors Is left to dazzle my longing eyes! Knights of the swivel-chairs, molding in office buildings, This is the last round-up of the old West That lives alone in empty pantomimes of vapid brass. Fools! I have heard the beat of the last Rodeo On the white dust roads that writhe in the Sacramento. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TOM BOWLING ['S EPITAPH] by CHARLES DIBDIN EPITAPHS OF THE WAR, 1914-18: THE COWARD by RUDYARD KIPLING STEVENSON'S BIRTHDAY by KATHERINE WISE MILLER ODE ON SOLITUDE (FINAL PRINTED VERSION) by ALEXANDER POPE GREAT FRIEND by HENRY DAVID THOREAU SYMPHONY IN YELLOW by OSCAR WILDE THE HARLOT'S HOUSE by OSCAR WILDE |