[Aaron Poochigian]

The Flower-Fed Buffaloes

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,
They trundle around the hills no more:-
With the Blackfeet lying low,
With the Pawnees lying low
Lying low.

[This message has been edited by Poochigian Aaron (edited June 12, 2008).]

[John Whitworth]

Aaron,I have always thought this one of the most beautiful poems ever written by an American. I don't know what the general opinon of Lindsay is over in the US of A. Didn't he kill himself? I have a little book of his called 'The Congo and Other Poems'.

But I think your ending is wrong. In my text (The Penguin Book of Modern American Verse edited by Geoffrey Moore 1954) it goes

They gore no more, they bellow no more,
They trundle around the hills no more:-
With the Blackfeet lying low,
With the Pawnees lying low
Lying low.

[This message has been edited by John Whitworth (edited June 12, 2008).]

[Aaron Poochigian]

Thanks for the correction, John. I defer to your text--my online source was dubious. I have only recently become aware of this poem but it has stolen my heart.

Yes, Lindsay did commit suicide--he drank a bottle of Lysol. His last words, allegedly, were: "They tried to get me--I got them first!"

[Gail White]

I'm glad to see someone put in a good word for Lindsay. Two of my favorite books are his Collected Letters and the biography "The West-Going Heart". Like Sara Teasdale (whom he wanted to marry), his reputation suffered from the rise of modernism - he was not a poet for the age of Eliot and Pound - but his life remains a classic American adventure story.

[Richard Meyer]

This is a marvelous poem. I've known it for over 35 years, committed it to memory shortly after encountering it, and included it in my English and humanities curriculum. Often I would pair the poem with a study of the prehistoric cave paintings of leaping bison at Lascaux.

This verse is a gem of sound and sense. With wonderful images and music it has much to say or suggest about change, about the old and the new, about time and history, about the American experience.

If I may be pedantic for a moment, consider the use of punctuation in lines 5 to 8. The line The tossing, blooming, perfumed grass moves slowly, undulates, and pauses because of diction choices and because of the commas, just as tall prairie grass waves and moves in a wind. But when change comes in line 7 there is no stopping or pausing or halting: Wheels and wheels and wheels spin by. This little poem is filled with many lovely touches.

My copies of the poem differ in punctuation in a few places from the one printed here:

L4: And the prairie flowers lie low:--

L10: Left us, long ago

Ls 13-14: With the Blackfeet, lying low,/With the Pawnees, lying low,

I think the commas included in my version make a significant difference in the rhythm and sound of the poem when it is read aloud.

Richard

[This message has been edited by Richard Meyer (edited June 16, 2008).]

[Robert J. Clawson]

The poem's still politically appropriate. Currently the wild herd in Yellowstone wanders into government-leased grasslands that Montana ranchers feel is their own. I guess they don't understand the difference between a lease and a deed.

Anyway, guess what they do to the buffalo? You guessed it. As puerile as it sounds, they shoot them. As a Pawnee might say, what a fucking waste.

Shameless

[Martin Elster]

People are still shooting wild bison in the 21st century? I say shame on them!

This poem is awesome. Thanks for posting it, Aaron.

[Roy Hamilton]

This is a good poem, but I wouldn't call it a great poem by any means. The rhymes are simplistic as is the message. The repeating phrases are a little boring and not all that effective. All in all a good poem in my humble opinion.

p.s. After reading Richard's comments I searched the poem on google. The variations in content and punctuation are really astounding.

[This message has been edited by Roy Hamilton (edited June 17, 2008).]

[Janet Kenny]

Truly beautiful and heart-tuggingly sad. Isn't L3 sensational?
Is that how "prairie" is spelled?

So much in so few lines! The sound and the tremendous images.
Thanks Aaron and thanks John for drawing our attention to Aaron's post.
Janet

[R. S. Gwynn]

I may be wrong, but I'm pretty sure the hunting of the free-range (government land) bison is rigidly controlled, and the herds need to be trimmed yearly to the size of available open grassland. I believe that some western states allow them to be harvested in limited numbers on a lottery basis; there is no open season on them. It would be hard for a hunter to turn down the offer of so much meat, especially if there are ten others standing behind him to take his place if he turns down the chance. A bison that starves during a hard winter or a drought is no good to anyone. Of course, it's not what I'd call sporting exactly, but shooting a deer under a corn feeder obviously stacks the odds in favor of the hunter too.

Bison are, of course, raised like cattle on ranches, and the meat is readily available throughout the western U. S. in restaurants. Vegetarians may protest, but eating a farm-raised bison is no different from eating a farm-raised catfish.