Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
Sweetgrass RangeEdwin Ford Piper
C
Sell your pony to me;
Braided bridle and your puncher saddle,
And spend your money free.
And ride the range no more,
Nail up my hat and my silver spurs
Above my shanty door.
To the snow and the rain and sun;
And bury me under the green sweetgrass
Where you hear the river run.”
And by the cabin door,
I heard a singing in the early dusk
Along the river shore;
And the tune of a pony’s feet.
The joy of the riding singer
I never shall forget.