Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, DOWN TO THE CIMARRON, by MAURINE HALLIBURTON


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

DOWN TO THE CIMARRON, by                    
First Line: Big ben barley and little sam coe
Last Line: Came down to the cimarron years ago.
Alternate Author Name(s): Mcgee, Mrs. M.h.
Subject(s): Cimarron River; Pioneers


Big Ben Barley and little Sam Coe
Came down to the Cimarron, years ago.
The cottonwoods the trail along
Rustled their dry leaves "Wrong, wrong, wrong!"

Neighbors they were and their ranches one
Wide sweep of land with fences none.
Barley couldn't make ranching pay
But Sam had money put away.

Big Ben Barley was a bachelor
But little Sam Coe had an Indian squaw.
The moon was down; the stars were pale;
The fire-flies danced on the pitch-dark trail

When big Ben Barley and little Sam Coe
Came down to the Cimarron years ago.
As big Ben Barley walked along,
He knew why the cottonwoods whispered "Wrong!"

For down to the river's sandy shore
Little Sam Coe would come no more.
He'd fix up a story without a flaw,
He'd have the ranch, and he'd have the squaw.

He'd have the money Sam put away...
Who said Ben couldn't make ranching pay?
Friends and neighbors for years gone by --
What makes Barley's glance so sly?

There in the cottonwoods' deepest shade,
What makes little Sam afraid?
Down with the blackjack, up with the knife --
Big Ben has taken his neighbor's life!

Sam's low cry is strangled in blood;
He slips to the ground with a quiet thud.
(It is dark as death by the cottonwood!)

Barley's hand in Sam's coat felt,
His fingers touched Sam's money-belt.
Packets of silver and coins of gold,
Pay for the cattle Sam had sold.

He stooped in the place where his friend lay dead,
But something white stood at Sam's head.
Rustling, white, where the dead man lay --
How soon does the spirit desert the clay?

The white wings whirred in that deathly place,
They fanned Ben Barley's frightened face.
Down dropped the silver, down the gold --
He was strong to take, but weak to hold.

He stepped back once, his eyes shut tight,
Fearing the thing that rose up white.
One step more and down he sank
Over the edge of the river bank.

Over the edge -- and his eyes flew wide;
He clutched at the trees on either side;
Clutched, but nothing stayed his hand --
Down he fell to the sucking sand.

He cursed and clawed in the treacherous bed
While a white owl circled above his head.

He loosed his hands but his legs were fast:
His cry "Sam! Sam!" was his very last.
(In the ranch-house, half a mile away
It was heard by the squaw, and a man named Ray.)

Thus big Ben Barley and little Sam Coe
Came down to the Cimarron years ago.





Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!


Other Poems of Interest...
Home: PoetryExplorer.net