The stage-road runs on the sunrise plain
To the north of the green lagoon
Where the wild ducks nest
And the ripples rest
And a lone man hides from a lonesome quest
And the tulès are dark at noon.

The cowboys ride on the mottled plain
To the west of the brown lagoon
Where the mustangs run,
And the dust-clouds spun
From their hammering hoofs rise up to the sun
In the height of the blue-hot noon.

The outlaw rides on the sundown plain
To the east of the gray lagoon
Where the buzzards wheel
And the far peaks reel
And the whirlwinds run like ghosts at his heel
To the break in the bad-lands hewn.

The sheriff rides on the twilight plain
To the south of the dry lagoon;
Through the silence grim,
Where the world grows dim
In a purple shadow from rim to rim
Over sand-barrens, dune on dune.

Coyotés run on the moon-dim plain
By the lip of the dead lagoon;
Where the shadows merge
Comes their shivering dirge
And the skull that lies by its salt-dry verge
Gleams pale to the death-pale moon.