TO THE COWBOYS AND COWGIRLS AFTER WEMBLEY, 1924

Out where the fierce Atlantic pitches
A Stetson waves on the evening sky. —
A long good-bye to you, Wembley witches!
Kings of the saddle, a long good-bye!

Will you remember, happily homing,
The little isles you have left forlorn,
Now that the ropes are round Wyoming,
Now that Nebraska tugs the horn?

When you ride once more by the Powder River,
When you round your steers where the Tetons rise,
Will you keep a place in your heart for ever
For the Island range and the rainy skies?

When you bend your reins where the Big-Horns hover,
When you cinch your packs for the Rio Grande,
Will Memory turn like a lonely lover
To the cramped corrals of this crowded land?

Many a night we shall see in dreaming,
O reckless horsemen, O gay-heart girls,
The silver mounts on your saddles gleaming,
The flash in the dust when your rope uncurls.

We shall remember your dauntless bearing,
Riding to triumph or roughly thrown;
Paladins; princes; damsels of daring,
Queening an empire all your own.

Back where the cottonwood's courtly shade is,
Back once more by the mountain springs,
May life in a light loop hold you, ladies!
And a winning ride to you, cowboy kings!