An Indian Summer Day on the Prairie by Vachel Lindsay

by Lola
(Mexico)

IN THE BEGINNING:

The sun is a huntress young,
The sun is a red, red joy,
The sun is an indian girl,
Of the tribe of Illinois.


MID-MORNING:

The sun is a smouldering fire,
That creeps through the high gray plain,
And leaves not a bush of cloud
To blossom with flowers of rain.


NOON:

The sun is a wounded deer,
That treads pale grass in the skies,
Shaking his golden horns,
Flashing his baleful eyes.


SUNSET:

Th sun is an eagle old,
There in the windless west.
Atop of the spirit-cliffs
He builds him a crimson nest.


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