life alone.
Here he stopped, with head uncovered,
Conscious of a strange appeal,
Yielding to the voiceless longing
Human hearts are bound to feel
When their lot is isolation,
And a field of sterile soil
Dwarfs and twists the struggling spirit
As the body bends with toil.

20

Here, that subtle, silent craving,
Which with life will never end,
Of the lonesome and the needy
For the comfort of a friend,
Drew the trav'ler to this tree waif,
And he spread his outfit near,
And they held that sacred converse
Which the soul alone can hear.
While the horses browsed the sage brush,
And the sun withdrew his light,
And the moon in mournful splendor
Ushered in the lonely night,
He lay down beneath the branches,
Wrapped in musings strange and deep--
Thoughts that bore him off in silence
O'er the placid sea of sleep.

21

In his dreams he saw a monarch
Decked in sumptuous array,
Seated on a throne of glory
Bearing royal title, Day.
Then some mighty power transcendent,
Thrust him from his gorgeous throne,
Turning all the realm to darkness,
And the world was left alone.
As the shades of gloom were spreading,
By strange flashing threads of light
He beheld in dim-drawn outline,
On the background of the night,
Phantom horse and girlish rider,
Speeding on in reckless race,
Till she turned directly toward him
And he saw her fearless face!

[Illustration: "Faithful Simon, weak and starving,
Groaned and fell beneath his pack...."]

22

With the journey's slow progression
Slipped away the summer days,
Merging with the sleepy beauty
Of the lazy autumn haze;
And the frosts and drought combining
Waged relentless battle there,
Withering up the scanty ranges,
Leaving all the country bare.
When he entered Colorado,
Following still the barren plain
Where for months the mocking heavens
Never spared a drop of rain,
Faithful Simon, weak and starving,
Following feebly in the track
Pulled upon his straining halter,
Groaned and fell beneath his pack.

23

Vain were all the kind entreaties,
Vain the simple nursing done
To relieve his palsied weakness--
Poor old Simon's course was run.
Billy spent the night beside him,
But with next day's early dawn,
With the east's first flush of scarlet,
Simon's faithful soul passed on.
Then, with hands outstretched before him,
Half remembering what was said
When a child he saw the sexton
Sprinkle earth