Herbert Bates

  • The Heavens are our riddle; and the sea,
    Forested earth, the grassy rustling plain,
    Snows, rains, and thunders. Yea, and even we
    Before ourselves stand ominous. In vain!
    The stars still march their way, the sea still rolls,
    The forests wave, the plain...

  • Across the sombre prairie sea
    The dark swells billow heavily.
    Are the looming ridges near of far
    That heave to the smooth horizon-bar?

    The russet reach of grassy roll
    Sickens the heart and numbs the soul;
    The thin wind gives no air for breath;...