Song Of The Spur.
Hilton R. Greer. A Prairie Prayer, 1912.
And the breath of the open trail,
Ere the East is stirred with a ripple of rose
Or the yellow stars grow pale!
And it’s hey and ho, for the beating sun
And the slash of the slanting rain,
For the singing grass and the stinging speed
And the sweep of the stretching plain!
O, it’s ho and hey, when the frenzied steers
Rush down in a thundering rank,
To the head of the herd—while my hungry teeth
Bite blood from the foaming flank!
And it’s hey and ho, when the Dusk has set
Faint lamps in her turrets high,
Homeward again where a far light calls
Under a tingling sky!