From Far Dakota’s Canyons [June 25, 1876] From far Dakota’s canyons, Lands of the wild ravine, the dusky Sioux, the lonesome stretch, the silence, Haply to-day a mournful wall, haply a trumpet-note for heroes.
I see the steppes of Asia, I see the tumuli of Mongolia, I see the tents of Kalmucks and Baskirs, I see the nomadic tribes with herds of oxen and cows, I see the table-lands notch’d with ravines, I see the jungles and deserts, I see the camel, the wild steed, the bustard, the fat-tail’d sheep, the antelope, and the burrowing wolf I see the highlands of Abyssinia, I see flocks of goats feeding, and see the fig-tree, tamarind, date, And see fields of teff-wheat and places of verdure andů
Yonnondio A song, a poem of itself—the word itself a dirge, Amid the wilds, the rocks, the storm and wintry night, To me such misty, strange tableaux the syllables calling up; Yonnondio—I see, far in the west or north, a limitless ravine, with plains and mountains dark, I see swarms of stalwart chieftains, medicine-men, and warriors, As flitting by like clouds of ghosts, they pass and are gone in the twilight, (Race of the woods, the landscapes free, and the falls!
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The car plunged into a 15-foot ravine.
afraid that if we climbed into the ravine, we might never get out