A little book of tribune verse A number of hitherto uncollected poems, grave and gay |
 |
|
|
ATMOSPHERIC DECEPTION. |
|
 | A little book of tribune verse |  |
171
ATMOSPHERIC DECEPTION.
The shades of night were falling fast
As through the streets of Denver pass'd
An Englishman who raised on high
This feeble but suggestive cry,
“The Foothills.”
As through the streets of Denver pass'd
An Englishman who raised on high
This feeble but suggestive cry,
“The Foothills.”
He queried of a man he met
“How far unto the foothills yet?”
The man looked up and deeply sighed,
“Some thirty miles, sir,” he replied,
“To them Foothills.”
“How far unto the foothills yet?”
The man looked up and deeply sighed,
“Some thirty miles, sir,” he replied,
“To them Foothills.”
The Englishman in spirit groaned,
“Well, I'll be blowed,” he sadly moaned;
“It must be in the atmosphere,
It don't look more'n a mile from here
To the Foothills.”
“Well, I'll be blowed,” he sadly moaned;
“It must be in the atmosphere,
It don't look more'n a mile from here
To the Foothills.”
Next morning on the blistered ground
The corse of that poor wretch was found,
From Denver thirty miles away,
And still as far again, they say,
From the Foothills.
The corse of that poor wretch was found,
From Denver thirty miles away,
And still as far again, they say,
From the Foothills.
August 12th, 1881.
| A little book of tribune verse | |