William Jay Smith quotes

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He hangs in the hall by his black cravat,
The ladies faint, and the children holler:
Not ringed but rare, not gilled but polyp-like, having sprung up
Tasting of the sweet damp woods and of the rain one inch above the meadow:

It was like feasting upon air.
The lariat snaps; the cowboy rolls
His pack, and mounts and rides away.
Back to the land the cowboy goes.
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