Sand, sand, sand; Clay banks with tall bushes, Above them the timber. The west is a wonder of colors; The night chill of autumn descends on the valley. The farm teams creep homeward, Over the bridge— Swinging on the boats that support it, Swaying tiny flares of the gas jets Just lighted By a dim, slow, silent figure— Creep toward barns dim in the distance, Toward barely visible cornfields. Early stars Shine on the bridge of the river, On the silent old lamp-lighter, As the teams creep home to the farms, As the night chill of autumn descends on the valley; Shine down where the commonwealths meet, South Dakota, Nebraska. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CREDO by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON GOSSAMER by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SORROW SINGERS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE GULF by KATHERINE MANSFIELD THE LANDSCAPE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE STORY OF THE ASHES AND THE FLAME by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON |