Poem by Vachel Lindsay

The Flower-Fed Buffaloes

THE flower-fed buffaloes of the spring
In the days of long ago,
Ranged where the locomotives sing
And the prarie flowers lie low:
The tossing, blooming, perfumed grass
Is swept away by wheat,
Wheels and wheels and wheels spin by
In the spring that still is sweet.
But the flower-fed buffaloes of the spring
Left us long ago,
They gore no more, they bellow no more
They trundle around the hills no more: --
With the Blackfeet lying low,
With the Pawnee lying low,
Lying low. 

1. The Merciful Hand
2. To Gloriana
3. Yet Gentle Will the Griffin Be
4. To Buddha
5. The Black Hawk War of the Artists

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