San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1892-07-06
LASCA.
BY FRANK DURIVAGE.

The medley of horns and hoofs and heads
That wars and wrangleS aud ScatterS and
spreads;
The green beneath, and blue above:
And dash and danger, and lite and love,
And Lasca!
Lasca used to ride
On mouse-gray mustang, close by my
side,
With blue serape and bright belled spur
! laughed with Joy as looked at her!
Little knew she of books or OF creeds,
An ave maria sufficed her needs:
Little she cared, save tQ he my. side,
To ride with me, and ever to ride,
From San Saba'S shore to Lavaca's tide.
She was as bold as the pillows that beat,
She was as wild as the breezes that blow;
From her little head to her little feet
She was swayed in her supplehess to and
fro
Ry each gust of passion; a sapplng pine,
That grows on the edge of a Kansas bluff,
And wars with the wind when the
weather is rough,
Is like the Lasca, this love Of mine.
She would hunger that might eat,
Would take the bitter and leave me the
sweet,
But once. when l made her jealous just
for fun,
At something I'd whispered, or looked or
done, 9
One Sunday in San Antonio,
To glorious girl on the Alamo,
She drew from her garter dear little
dagger,
An inch to the left, or an inch to the
And shouldn't be maundering here to-
night:
But she sobbed, and, sobbing, so swiftly
Her torn reboso about the wound
That quite forsave her. Scratches don't
count
In Texas down by the Rio Grande.
Her eye was brown-a deep. deep brown;
her hair was darker than her eye:
And something in her smile and frown,
CuIled crimpson lip and instep high,
Showed that there ran in each blue vein,
Mixed with the milder Aztec strain,
The vigorous vintage OF old Spain.
She was alive in every limb
With feeling to the finger tips;
And when the sun is like fire,
And sky one shining, soft sapphire,
One does not drink in little sips.
Why did leave the fresh and the free,
That suited her and suited me?
Listen while and you will see;
But this be sure. in earth or air,
God and Gods laws are everywhere.
And Nemesis comes with a foot as fleet
On the Texas trail as in Regant street.
The air was heavy the night was hot,
sat by her side and forgot--forgot;
Forgot the herd that were taking their
rest.
Forgot that the air was close opprest,
That the Texas norther comes sudden
In the dead of night or the blaze of noon:
That once let the herd at its breath take
fright,
That nothing on earth can stop their
flight;
And woe to the rider, and woe to the
Steed
Who falls in front Of their mad stampede.
Was that thunder? No, by the Lord!
| spring to my saddle without word.
One foot on mine. and she chung behind,
Away! on hot chase down the wind!
But never was fox-hunt so hard.
And never was steed so little spared,
For we rode for our lives. You shall hear
how he Jared
In Texas, down by the Rio Grande.
The mustang flew, and we urged him on:
but one:
Halt, jump to ground, and shoot your
horse:
Crouch under his carcass and take your
chance,
And if the steers in their frantic course
Don't batter you both TO pieces at once,
You may thank your star; if not, goOdby
To the Quickening kiss and the long
drawn sigh,
And the open air and the open sky.
In Texas down by the Rio Grande!
The cattle gained on US, and just as felt
For my old siX-shOoterS behind in my belt,
Down came the mustang, and down came
we,
Cinging together, and--w was the
rest
A body that spread itself on my breast.
Two arms that shielded my dizzy head,
Two lips that hard on my lips were prest;
Then came thunder in my ears,
AS over us surged the sea of steers,
Blows that beat blood into my eyes,
And when l could rise
Lasca was dead!
gouged out a grave few feet deep,
And there in Earth'S arms ! laid her to
sleep:
And there she is lying, and no one knows,
And the summer shines and the winter
SHOWS.
For many day the flowers have spread
A pail of petals over her head;
And the little gray hawk hangs aloft in
the air,
And the sly coyote trots here and there,
And the black snake glides and glitters
and slides
Into rift in a cotton wood tree;
And the buZZard sails on,
And comes and is gone,
Stately and still, Ike ship at sea.
And wonder why do not care
For things that are like the things that
were.
Does half my heart lie buried there.
In Texas. down by the Rio Grande?
Now York Commercial Advertiser.
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