SWEETGRASS RANGE
Come sell your pony, cowboy—
Sell your pony to me;
Braided bridle and your puncher saddle,
And spend your money free.
“If I should sell my pony,
And ride the range no more,
Nail up my hat and my silver spurs
Above my shanty door;
“And let my door stand open wide
To the snow and the rain and sun;
And bury me under the green sweetgrass
Where you hear the river run.”
As I came down the sweetgrass range
And by the cabin door,
I heard a singing in the early dusk
Along the river shore;
I heard a singing to the early stars,
And the tune of a pony’s feet.
The joy of the riding singer
I never shall forget.
T. A. Daly
Thomas Augustine Daly was born in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, May 28, 1871. He attended Villanova College and Fordham University (1889), leaving there at the end of his sophomore year to become a newspaper man. Since 1891 he has been on the staff of various Philadelphia journals, writing reviews, editorials, travel-notes and, most of all, running the columns in which his much-quoted verse originally appeared.
Canzoni (1906) and Carmina (1909) contain the best known of Daly’s varied dialect verse. Although he has written in half a dozen different idioms including “straight” English (vide Songs of Wedlock, 1916), his half-humorous, half-pathetic interpretations of the Irish and Italian immigrants are his forte.
Seldom descending to caricature, Daly exhibits the features and foibles of his characters without exploiting them; even the lightest passages in McAroni Ballads (1919) are done with delicacy and a not too sentimental appreciation.