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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=428473" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Texas Cowboy</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=428473" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">From garden-beds I tend, it is not far<br>To those great ranges where he used to ride;<br>Time’s shadowy Door still stands a rift ajar,<br>And Fancy, glancing backward and aside,<br>May glimpse him whirling in a storm, of dust,<br>A flashing bronze against a burning sky,<br>Before a sea of tossing horns up-thrust,<br>A peril thousand-pronged, to breast or die;<br>Or lying with locked hands beneath his head,<br>Watching the stars beside a lonely fire,<br>About him dim immensity outspread<br>Within, dim gulfs of question and desire.<br>He is a Thought; he is not flesh-and-bone;<br>He is immortal Youth astride a Dream:<br>The hungry flame that eats to ash and stone<br>The gorgeous fruitage of the things that seem;<br>And I (who sand, with pang and toil enough,<br>My roots at last down to the nether springs,<br>Yet, born to coax the shapely from the rough,<br>Have shunned the red and jagged edge of things),<br>A Woman with a bird, a book , a flower,<br>Who, sifting life, has kept the quiet part,<br>Whose days like pearls are sorted, hour by hour -<br>Why is it that he gallops through my heart?</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Karle+Wilson+Baker">Karle Wilson Baker</a></strong></div>