Classic Poem

The goat-herd follows his flock
Over the sandy plain,
And the goats nibble the rabbit-bush
Acrid with desert rain.

Old Juan Quintana's coat
Is a faded purple blue,
And his hat is a warm plum-brown,
And his trousers a tawny hue.

He is sunburnt like the hills,
And his eyes have a strange goat-look;
And when I came on him alone,
He suddenly quivered and shook.

Out in the hills all day
The trees do funny things—
And a horse shaped like a man
Rose up from the ground on wings.

And a burro came and stood
With a cross, and preached to the flock,
While old Quintana sat
As cold as ice on a rock.

And sometimes the mountains move,
And the mesa turns about;
And Juan Quintana thinks he's lost,
Till a neighbor hears him shout.

And they say with a little laugh
ThaThe isn't quite right, up here;
And they'll have to get a muchacho
To help with the flock next year.