He seems a sunburnt page ripped out From sign scrawled prairie lore, Although he's lost his primal clout And bought things in a store. Still moccasined, he scrapes along The sidewalk randomly. He'd be more noble with his song Of war-trails echoing free. I see him pause. His sunken eyes Peer through a plated glass. Gownsprairie fire! Big surprise! I sniff. He smells of grass. O men of learning! What a job Of up-lift here is done. You thought to stir a deathless throb Where ages saya gun. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE COCK AND THE BULL by CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY THE CONTRACT by EMILY DICKINSON MADONNA OF THE EVENING FLOWERS by AMY LOWELL A FAREWELL TO LONDON IN THE YEAR 1715 by ALEXANDER POPE THE BUILDERS OF THE ARK by MARIA ABDY |