Poetry of Kansas


Prairie land is golden,
Airy, wide.
The sky our only mountain,
We, inside.
Who would choose a small land
Where the hills,
Steadily asserting
Granite wills,
Narrow all horizons,
Stand apart?
Ah, my golden prairie,
In the sky-mountain's heart!

May Williams Ward
page 51
(Atlanta: The Bozart Press. 1929)

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September 8, 2004 / John & Susan Howell / Wichita, Kansas / howell@kotn.org

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