Poetry of Vachel Lindsay. 1879–1931

 

THE flower-fed buffaloes of the spring In the days of long ago, Ranged where the locomotives sing And the prairie flowers lie low: The tossing, blooming, perfumed grass Is swept away by wheat, Wheels and wheels and wheels spin by In the spring that still is sweet. But the flower-fed buffaloes of the spring Left us long ago, They gore no more, they bellow no more:-- With the Blackfeet lying low, With the Pawnee lying low.