on this kind of prairie where due north can never be undue let the eye take its own meridian toward the designated farm admit that only stepchildren were born to it not one a designee not even the first humdinger boy to arrive in a roar on this kind of prairie do not ever try to be more than an unneeded guest at the table until it is due time to stomp out and man the fields to become in turn after eating wind for an epoch an unheeded visitor on them and have to work to leave the prairie or work to stay and work to love it
Categories: Poetry