Poem by Hamlin Garland

To a Caotive Crane

Ho, brother! Art thou prisoned too?
Is thy heart hot with restless pain?
I heard the call thy bugle blew
Here by the bleak and chilling main
(Whilst round me shaven parks are spread
And cindered drives wind on and on);
And at thy cry, thy lifted head,
My gladdened heart was westward drawn.

O splendid bird! your trumpet brings
To my lone heart the prairie springs.

1. The Herald Crane
2. On the Mississippi
3. In August
4. Boyish Sleep
5. The Toil of the Trail

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