Willa Cather, April Twilights: and Other Poems

"A crimson fire that vanquishes the stars;A pungent odor from the dusty sage;A sudden stirring of the huddled herds;A breaking of the distant table-lands Through purple mists ascending, and the flare Of water ditches silver in the light;A swift, bright lance hurled low across the world;A sudden sickness for the hills of home."