Badger Clark was born at Albia, Iowa, in 1883. He moved to Dakota Territory at the age of three months and now lives in the Black Hills of South Dakota. Clark is one of the few men who have lived to see their work become part of folk-lore; many of his songs having been adapted and paraphrased by the cowboys who have made them their own. A version of one of his poems ("The Glory Trail"), after wide circulation among the ranchers and cowpunchers, was printed as an example of anonymous folk-song in Poetry; A Magazine of Verse under the title "High-Chin Bob"-and credited to "Author Unknown." Sun and Saddle Leather (1915) and Grass-Grown Trails (1917) are the expression of a native singer; happy, spontaneous and seldom "literary." There is wind in these songs; the smell of camp-smoke and the colors of prairie sunsets rise from them. Free, for the most part, from affectations, Clark achieves an unusual ease in his use of the local vernacular. THE GLORY TRAIL1 'Way high up the Mogollons, But High-Chin Bob, with sinful pride And mav'rick-hungry rope. 1 From Sun and Saddle Leather by Badger Clark. Copyright, 1915. Richard G. Badger, Publisher. "Oh, glory be to me," says he, That lion licked his paw so brown And dreamed soft dreams of veal- "Oh, glory be to me," laughs he. No human man as I have read Nor ever hawse could drag one dead 'Way high up the Mogollons That top-hawse done his best, Through whippin' brush and rattlin' stones, From canyon-floor to crest. But ever when Bob turned and hoped A limp remains to find, A red-eyed lion, belly roped "Oh, glory be to me," grunts he. " This glory trail is rough, Yet even till the Judgment Morn Could stoop to holler: Nuff!"" Three suns had rode their circle home Beyond the desert's rim, And turned their star-herds loose to roam Yet up and down and 'round and 'cross For pride still glued him to his hawse "Oh, glory be to me," sighs he. 'Way high up the Mogollons A prospect man did swear That moon dreams melted down his bones And hoisted up his hair: A ribby cow-hawse thundered by, A lion trailed along, A rider, ga'nt but chin on high, Yelled out a crazy song. "Oh, glory be to me!" cries he, I'll never turn him loose!" THE COYOTE 1 Trailing the last gleam after, In the valleys emptied of light, Under the wings of the night, To the red moon on the hills. Mournfully rising and waning, On to the black mountains wearily, Wanders the cry, and is lost. 1 From Grass-Grown Trails by Badger Clark. Copyright, 1917. Richard G. Badger, Publisher. Here by the fire's ruddy streamers, Hark to the song of our years. Cry our despair and delight, Voice of the Western night! Marguerite Wilkinson Marguerite Ogden Bigelow was born at Halifax, Nova Scotia, November 15, 1883. She attended Northwestern University and married James G. Wilkinson in 1909. In Vivid Gardens (1911) is a mixture of original moods and derivative manners. The later Bluestone (1920) is a much riper collection; a book of lyrics in which the author has made many experiments in the combination of rhythmical tunes and verbal music. Mrs. Wilkinson is also the author of New Voices (1919), a series of essays on contemporary verse, reinforced with liberal quotations from both English and American poets. BEFORE DAWN IN THE WOODS And half-notes shrilly cut the quickened air. |