On A Troop Train.
Mary Carolyn Davies. The Drums in Our Street, 1918.
And I remember riding out with you—
Sagebrush, sagebrush, violet and purple,
Gray under noon sun, and silver under dew.
Riding out together down the gold arroyo,
Riding to the rim-rock, climbing up a trail,
Riding when the sunset is pricking out the river;
Far from ranch or bunk-house, or any friendly hail.
Have you forgotten all our rides together,
Creaking leather, clinking spurs, range sky blue,
Startled rabbits flashing across the trail before us—
Would sudden scent of sagebrush mean anything to you?