Pilgrim Bard  

To whom the green sward is like bed of down,
   With no pavilion save the starlit sky,
Upon whose locks the evening dews have shown;
Who often slept among the wilds alone,
   The while the coyotes sing his lullaby.

Gladly would I backward turn Time's mystic wheel,
   And make this land again a desert wild;
I care not what the future may reveal;
   But memories of the past will o'er me steal–
Again I would be nature's reckless child.

–Scott Cummins

__________________


Barrington, F. H.
Kansas Day
(Topeka: Geo. W. Crane & Company. 1892)


 
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