In panoramic length unrolled
We saw the marvels that it told.
Before us passed the painted Creeks,
And daft McGregor on his raids
In Costa Rica’s everglades.
![]() | |
And up Taygetos winding slow Rode Ypsilanti’s Mainote Greeks, A Turk’s head at each saddle-bow! Welcome to us its week-old news, Its corner for the rustic Muse, Its monthly gauge of snow and rain, | |
Its record, mingling in a breath
The wedding knell and dirge of death;
Jest, anecdote, and love-lorn tale;
The latest culprit sent to jail;
