The Great Western Plains

Uncollected

THE little voices of the prairie dogsAre tireless …They will give three hurrahsAlike to stage, equestrian, and pullman,And all unstingingly as to the moon.

And Fifi’s bows and poodle easeWhirl by them centred on the lapOf Lottie Honeydew, movie queen,Toward lawyers and Nevada.

And how much more they cannot see!Alas, there is so little time,The world moves by so fast these days!Burrowing in silk is not their way —And yet they know the tomahawk.

Indeed, old memories come back to life;Pathetic yelps have sometimes greetedNoses pressed against the glass.

(uncollected)