Poetry Friday I: My Prairies

My Prairies
by Hamlin Garland (1860-1940)

I love my prairies, they are mine
From zenith to horizon line,
Clipping a world of sky and sod
Like the bended arm and wrist of God.

I love their grasses. The skies
Are larger, and my restless eyes
Fasten on more of earth and air
Than seashore furnishes anywhere.

I love the hazel thickets; and the breeze,
The never resting prairie winds. The trees
That stand like spear points high
Against the dark blue sky

Are wonderful to me. I love the gold
Of newly shaven stubble, rolled
A royal carpet toward the sun, fit to be
The pathway of a deity.

I love the life of pasture lands; the songs of birds
Are not more thrilling to me than the herd's
Mad bellowing or the shadow stride
Of mounted herdsmen at my side.

I love my prairies, they are mine
From high sun to horizon line.
The mountains and the cold gray sea
Are not for me, are not for me.

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For more on Hamlin Garland, who won the Pulitzer Prize for biography in 1921 for Daughter of the Middle Border, visit the Hamlin Garland Society website, which includes a bibliography listing other poetry and books by Garland available online and a good list of resources.

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Hop over to Kelly at Big A little a for the day's round-up, as well as "an excerpt, a review, and a big, big recommendation." Sounds good to me!