The flower-fed buffaloes of the spring In the days of long ago, Ranged where the locomotives sing And the prarie flowers lie low: The tossing, blooming, perfumed grass Is swept away by wheat, Wheels and wheels and wheels spin by In the spring that still is sweet. But the flower-fed buffaloes of the spring Left us long ago, They gore no more, they bellow no more: -- With the Blackfeet lying low, With the Pawnee lying low.
The Flower-Fed Buffaloes
Song Cycle by John H. Harbison (b. 1938)
1. The flower‑fed buffaloes  [sung text not yet checked]
Language: English
Text Authorship:
- by Vachel Lindsay (1879 - 1931), "The flower-fed buffaloes"
See other settings of this text.
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]2. Enrich my resignation
Language: English
Enrich my resignation as I usurp those far
. . . . . . . . . .
— The rest of this text is not
currently in the database but will be
added as soon as we obtain it. —
Text Authorship:
- by (Harold) Hart Crane (1899 - 1932), "Enrich my resignation", appears in The Collected Poems of Hart Crane, first published 1933
Go to the general single-text view
3. Depths
Language: English
— This text is not currently
in the database but will be added
as soon as we obtain it. —
Text Authorship:
- by Michael Fried (b. 1939), copyright ©
Go to the general single-text view
This text may be copyright, so we will not display it until we obtain permission to do so or discover it is public-domain.4. Above Pate Valley  [sung text not yet checked]
Language: English
We finished clearing the last [ ... ]
Text Authorship:
- by Gary Snyder (b. 1930), "Above Pate Valley", copyright ©
Go to the general single-text view
This text may be copyright, so we will not display it until we obtain permission to do so or discover it is public-domain.5. The amaranth  [sung text not yet checked]
Language: English
Ah, in the night, all music haunts me here. . . . Is it for naught high Heaven cracks and yawns And the tremendous Amaranth descends Sweet with the glory of ten thousand dawns? Does it not mean my God would have me say: -- "Whether you will or no, O city young, Heaven will bloom like one great flower for you, Flash and loom greatly all your marts among?" Friends, I will not cease hoping though you weep. Such things I see, and some of them shall come Though now our streets are harsh and ashen-gray, Though our strong youths are strident now, or dumb. Friends, that sweet town, that wonder-town, shall rise. Naught can delay it. Though it may not be Just as I dream, it comes at last I know With streets like channels of an incense-sea.
Text Authorship:
- by Vachel Lindsay (1879 - 1931), "The amaranth", appears in The Congo and Other Poems, first published 1925
Go to the general single-text view
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]Total word count: 355