Somewhere out West there lies a sloping plain <br />That looks across the winding river track <br />A mile away to northward, bluish-black <br />With elm and cottonwood, then up again <br />Rises to meet the distant sky. Green grain <br />And greener grass in spring; if fall wheat stack <br />And pink brown prairie grass, stock at the rack, <br />And marvels of sky this landscape doth contain. <br />Here was my dear one born and passed her days, <br />Familiar with each bird and flower and tree, <br />Light-hearted, supple-thewed, a boy in ways, <br />Knew nature, music, books, but knew not me. <br />How beautiful her youth! yet I confess, <br />The memory breeds in me strange loneliness.<br /><br />William Herbert Carruth<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/tescott/
