As I ride without a care.
I see upon the feilds of gold,
The suns reflection bright and bold.
No one, nothing to bother me.
And this is why my tale is sad,
I speak of the love I once had.
Never have I seen a more beautiful sight.
Yet, I can not have her for my own,
For she is coupled and I alone.
Her precious memory forever will stay.
I can not face her for my foolish pride,
But, I have one good thing; I'm still free to ride.
written July 20, 1992
No sound is heard within the shelter'd place,
save some sweet whisper of the pines,-nor seen
or restless man, or his works, a trace:
I stray,through bushes low, a little space:
unlock'd for sight their parted leaves disclose:
restless no more, lo! one of Indian race;
his bonds beneath that roof of bark repose.
once didn'st thou dwell-in this through rivers move;
frail house, frail skiff, frail man! of him who knows
his master's will, not thine the doom shall prove:
what will be yours, ye powerful, wealthy, wise,
by whom the heathen unregarded dies?
-George J. Mountain
written ?
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