cowboy poetry

now for a brisk and cheerful fight
therefore i may not
we were not many
she knows a cheap release
do not grieve that it is over
let us pity those who are better off than we are
it tells of good old times
among the mountains i wandered
i shake my hair in the wind of morning
death's nobility again
moonlight deep and tender
this is the arsenal
i stood
the long resounding marble corridors