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. With a Bouquet of Twelve Roses
2. What the Gray-Winged Fairy Said
3. The Drunkards in the Street
4. What the Sexton Said
5. The Leaden-Eyed

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