thanksgiving poem

he's gone
somewhere i read a strange, old, rusty tale
she heard the children playing in the sun
she knows a cheap release
how like the stars are these white, nameless faces
passing through huddled and ugly walls
i gazed upon the glorious sky
the old west, the old time
at midnight
no prey am i of poor thoughts
often i think of the beautiful town
i love the old melodious lays
awful truths these be