As I was ridin' all alone And winkin' in the noontime glare, I seen a hawse all hide and bone Walk 'round a willow dead and bare— Walk 'round and 'round, with limp and groan, And hunt the shade that wasn't there. And then says I: "That sorry steed Has been and et the loco weed." Near by a spreadin' live oak laid Its wide, cool shadow on the ground, But then he knowed that willow's shade Was just a little further 'round And reckoned, each slow step he made, That in the next it would be found. There, like a coon, his thoughts were treed Since he had et the loco weed. The water trail went windin' by, The sweet brown grass furred every slope And he was ga'nt and starved and dry, Yet, on his ghostly picket rope Led 'round and 'round, he still must try That hopeless circle of his hope. He didn't think of drink or feed Since he had et the loco weed. A playful wild bunch topped the hill And stared with eyes all impish bright And whinnered to him sweet and shrill, Then flung their heads and loped from sight, Yet from that everlastin' mill They couldn't make him stray a mite. He never seen their gay stampede For he had et the loco weed. When next that range I had to ride Beneath his willow tree he lay, Just wornout hoofs and faded hide And big black birds that flopped away; But yet I reckon that he died Still hopeful—happy—who kin say? Sometimes I think I mostly need To eat some sort of loco weed. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MORAL ESSAYS: EPISTLE 2. TO A LADY: OF THE CHARACTERS OF WOMEN by ALEXANDER POPE THE WATCHER AT THE GATE by SAMUEL HAWKINS MARSHALL BYERS ANELIDA AND ARCITE by GEOFFREY CHAUCER HOMETOWN by CHARLES BADGER CLARK JR. UNITY by VIRGINIA WOODWARD CLOUD |