Knew the unmarked graves beneath the prairie sod.
It has watched the thin, gray dust-cloud
With the summer heat-haze blent,
And the glint below of swords and bridle-chains,
As some squad of blue-clad troopers,
Like a wolf-pack on the scent,
Trailed the fleeing travois' track across the plains.
It has seen the long-horned cattle
Take the bisons' pasture lands,
Seen the cornfields spread where once the wild grass stood,