Читать книгу The Trail of the Goldseekers: A Record of Travel in Prose and Verse - Garland Hamlin - Страница 7

A coyote wailing in the yellow dawn,

A mountain land that stretches on and on,

And ceases not till in the skies

Vast peaks of rosy snow arise,

Like walls of plainsman's paradise.

I cannot tell why this is so;

I cannot say, I do not know

Why wind and wolf and yellow sky,

And grassy mesa, square and high,

Possess such power to satisfy.

But so it is. Deep in the grass

I lie and hear the winds' feet pass;

And all forgot is maid and man,

And hope and set ambitious plan

Are lost as though they ne'er began.