The Kiote August-September 1900



The wide, wide prairies are ravished now

            Of their harvest of golden grain,

The fields late opened by the plow

            Await the autumn rain.


On plain and hill the golden-rod

            Flecks all the green with gold,

While brown and sere is the prairie sod,

            And dark is the upturned mould.


Now soon will the hand of the sower come

            To scatter again the grain,

For the bringing of next year’s harvest-home

            When the seasons turn again.


Ella B. Martin

The Kiote, August/September 1900