Poem by Hamlin Garland

A Tribute of Grasses

                                  To W. W.

  SERENE, vast head, with silver cloud of hair
Lined on the purple dusk of death,
A stern medallion, velvet set—
Old Norseman, throned, not chained upon thy chair,
Thy grasp of hand, thy hearty breath 
    Of welcome thrills me yet
    As when I faced thee there!

Loving my plain as thou thy sea,
Facing the East as thou the West,
I bring a handful of grass to thee,— 
The prairie grasses I know the best;
Type of the wealth and width of the plain,
Strong of the strength of the wind and sleet,
Fragrant with sunlight and cool with rain,
I bring it and lay it low at thy feet,
    Here by the eastern sea.

1. In August
2. The Herald Crane
3. On the Mississippi
4. Boyish Sleep
5. The Ute Lover

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