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Poem by Vachel Lindsay What the Rattlesnake Said The moon’s a little prairie-dog. He shivers through the night. He sits upon his hill and cries For fear that I will bite. The sun’s a broncho. He’s afraid Like every other thing, And trembles, morning, noon and night, Lest I should spring, and sting. Vachel Lindsay Vachel Lindsay's other poems:
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