John Crowe Ransom quotes

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Tawny are the leaves turned, but they still hold.
It is the harvest; what shall this land produce?
The horn, the hounds, the lank mares coursing by
Under quaint archetypes of chivalry;
There was such speed in her little body,
And such lightness in her footfall,
For I could tell you a story which is true;
I know a lady with a terrible tongue,
The curse of hell upon the sleek upstart
That got the Captain finally on his back
I would not knock old fellows in the dust
But there lay Captain Carpenter on his back
But where she should have made off like a hind
The bitch bit off his arms at the elbows.
Captain Carpenter rose up in his prime
Put on his pistols and went riding out
A boy not beautiful, nor good, nor clever,
A black cloud full of storms too hot for keeping,
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