HE is the Pampa's very own,—a bit Of her brave soil that spread beneath the sun; Wanting a savage steed, he bridles one To herd his cattle,—his the arm for it. Then to the sound of his guitar will sit In his belovéd's arms, his toiling done, And pour an anguished chant to twirl and run Like his lassoo, his sad lament to fit. The Pampa is the frame that bounds the thirst The @3gaucho@1 feels in his desire to break The weariness with which the land seems cursed; Its green monotony afar displayed Seems where some great fatigue its rest would take, Or reaches onward as a hope betrayed. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SICILIAN EMIGRANT'S SONG by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS THE RIVULET by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT ON THE DEATH OF THE REV. MR. GEORGE WHITEFIELD, 1770 by PHILLIS WHEATLEY ON FAITH, REASON, AND SIGHT by JOHN BYROM PROVERBIAL PHILOSOPHY: OF PROPRIETY by CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY MASQUE AT THE MARRIAGE OF THE EARL OF SOMERSET: CHORUS (1) by THOMAS CAMPION |