Three suns had rode their circle home Beyond the desert’s rim, And turned their star-herds loose to roam The ranges high and dim; Yet up and down and ’round and ’cross Bob pounded, weak and wan, For pride still glued him to his hawse And glory drove him on.
“_Oh, glory be to me,” sighs he. “He kaint be drug to death, But now I know beyond a doubt Them heroes I have read about Was only fools that stuck it out To end of mortal breath._”
’Way high up the Mogollons A prospect man did swear That moon dreams melted down his bones And hoisted up his hair: A ribby cow-hawse thundered by, A lion trailed along, A rider, ga’nt but chin on high, Yelled out a crazy song.
“_Oh, glory be to me!” cries he, “And to my noble noose! Oh, stranger, tell my pards below I took a rampin’ dream in tow, And if I never lay him low, I’ll never turn him loose!_”
Trailing the last gleam after, In the valleys emptied of light, Ripples a whimsical laughter Under the wings of the night, Mocking the faded west airily, Meeting the little bats merrily, Over the mesas it shrills To the red moon on the hills.
Mournfully rising and waning, Far through the moon-silvered land Wails a weird voice of complaining Over the thorns and the sand. Out of blue silences eerily, On to the black mountains wearily, Till the dim desert is crossed, Wanders the cry, and is lost. Here by the fire’s ruddy streamers, Tired with our hopes and our fears, We inarticulate dreamers Hark to the song of our years. Up to the brooding divinity Far in that sparkling infinity Cry our despair and delight, Voice of the Western night!
Marguerite Ogden Bigelow was born at Halifax, Nova Scotia, November 15, 1883. She attended Northwestern University and married James G. Wilkinson in 1909.
_In Vivid Gardens_ (1911) is a mixture of original moods and derivative manners. The later _Bluestone_ (1920) is a much riper collection; a book of lyrics in which the author has made many experiments in the combination of rhythmical tunes and verbal music.
Mrs. Wilkinson is also the author of _New Voices_ (1919), a series of essays on contemporary verse, reinforced with liberal quotations from both English and American poets.
Upon our eyelids, dear, the dew will lie, And on the roughened meshes of our hair, While little feet make bold to scurry by And half-notes shrilly cut the quickened air.