Classic Poem

Death rode a pinto pony
Along the Rio Grande,
Beside the trail his shadow
Was riding on the sand.

The look upon his youthful face
Was sinister and dark,
And the pistol in his scabbard
Had never missed its mark.

The moonlight on the river
Was bright as molten ore,
The ripples broke in whispers
Along the sandy shore.

The breath of prairie flowers
Had made the night-wind sweet,
And a mocking bird made merry
In a lacy-leafed mesquite.

Death looked toward the river,
He looked toward the land,
He took his broad sombrero off
And held it in his hand,
And Death felt something touch him
He could not understand.

The lights at Madden's ranch-house
Were brighter than the moon,
The girls came tripping in like deer,
The fiddles were in tune,

And Death saw through the window
That man he came to kill,
And he that did not hesitate
Sat hesitating still.

A cloud came over the moon,
The moon came out and smiled,
A coyote howled upon the hill,
The mocking bird went wild.

Death drew his hand across his brow,
As if to move a stain,
Then slowly turned his pinto horse
And rode away again.