 | The harp and plow |  |
145
THE PRAIRIE COCK.
A TRUE STORY.
One day, when Spring's returning sun
Had thawed the frozen ground,
And made the wintry drifts to run
Dissolving round,
I sallied forth with shouldered gun,
For shooting bound.
Had thawed the frozen ground,
And made the wintry drifts to run
Dissolving round,
I sallied forth with shouldered gun,
For shooting bound.
Glad once to see the sun again,
And heedless where I strayed,
I wandered to a prairie plain,
And halting made
To look about, nor yet in vain
The scene surveyed.
And heedless where I strayed,
I wandered to a prairie plain,
And halting made
To look about, nor yet in vain
The scene surveyed.
For as I stood with ears erect,
And vision nowise blurred,
I in the distance did detect,
And plainly heard
The hollow voice, I did suspect,
Of prairie-bird.—
And vision nowise blurred,
I in the distance did detect,
And plainly heard
The hollow voice, I did suspect,
Of prairie-bird.—
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(A vaunting fowl, this prairie-cock—
A vain and silly thing;
But oft the hunter's skill he'll mock
And take to wing;
And from a thousand in a flock
Not one he'll bring.)—
A vain and silly thing;
But oft the hunter's skill he'll mock
And take to wing;
And from a thousand in a flock
Not one he'll bring.)—
Thinking himself secure, no doubt,
The distance was so great,
The cock began to strut about
At furious rate,
With wings dropp'd down and tail spread out,
And step elate.
The distance was so great,
The cock began to strut about
At furious rate,
With wings dropp'd down and tail spread out,
And step elate.
The sight was tempting for a shot—
Tho' distant, he was bold;
The story, then, it matters not
How soon 't is told:
I sent a bullet to the spot
And laid him cold.
Tho' distant, he was bold;
The story, then, it matters not
How soon 't is told:
I sent a bullet to the spot
And laid him cold.
And as I stooped to pick him up
I thus soliliquized:
‘Poor thing! your overflowing cup
Was soon capsized;
Upon your carcass I shall sup,
Unless surprised.
I thus soliliquized:
‘Poor thing! your overflowing cup
Was soon capsized;
Upon your carcass I shall sup,
Unless surprised.
‘I'll gather from this emblem small
A moral, if I may;
Thy fate reminds me of a fall
Before to-day;—
Pride, let it tower however tall,
Must sure decay.
A moral, if I may;
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Before to-day;—
Pride, let it tower however tall,
Must sure decay.
‘How oft we mark the self-conceit
That struts and shuffles by,
That in the gutter of the street
Ere long may lie!’
Reader, ere Pride tip-toe thy feet,
Turn back and fly.
That struts and shuffles by,
That in the gutter of the street
Ere long may lie!’
Reader, ere Pride tip-toe thy feet,
Turn back and fly.
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