While in the West, his songs were all of the West. He saw poetry in everything from the awe-inspiring grandeur of the mountains to the sneaking coyotes which sang us to sleep at night from their perch on a distant sandhill, but since he drifted Eastward and came into touch with civilizationhe has tuned his poetic lyre in a different key and writes of more commonplace things. His first book of verse was printed many years ago and was wholly made up of Western song. Such copies as are yet in existence are preserved as valued mementoes by many of his friends and companions who knew him in border life. The present volume embodies a few of his earlier wildland efforts interspersed among poems of varied character.
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