Page 235 - The model orator, or, Young folks' speaker : containing the choicest recitations and readings from the best authors for schools, public entertainments, social gatherings, Sunday schools, etc. : including recitals in prose and verse ...
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LASCA.

                                   I   W A N T free  life,  and  I want fresh  air;
                                        And  I  sigh for the car;.^  adtir  die cattle,
                                        The crack  of  I he  whips  like  shots  in  a battle,
                                  The  medley  of  horns  and  hools  and  heads

                                  That  wars  and  wrangles  and  scatters  and spreads;
                                  The  green  beneath  and the blur:  above.
                                  And  dash  and  danger,  and  life and  love.


                                  And  I.ascaf
                                                  Lasra used  to  ride
                                  On a  rflfj use-gray  mustang  close to my  side,
                                  With  blue  serape and  briglit-belled sp;ir;
                                  I  laughed  with  joy  m.s  I  looked  ut her!
                                  She  was  as bold  as  the billows  that Is eat,
                                  She  was  as wild  as  the  breewcs  ihai blow;
                                  From  her  little  head to  her  little feet,
                                  She  was  sway ed tn  her  snppleness  t:o  and  fro
                                  By each  gust  of  passion;  a  sapling pine.
                                  That grows  on  the  edge of  a Kansas  bluff,
                                  And  wars  with the  wind  when  the  weather is  rough,
                                  Is  like  this  Lasca,  this  love  of  mine.
                                  She would  hunger  tbat 1  might  eat,
                                  Would take the  bitter,  and  leave  me the sweet;
                                  Rut once,  when  I  made her jealous  for fun,
                                  At  something  I'd whispered,  or looked,  or done,
                                  One  Sunday,  in  San  Antonio,
                                  To a  glorious  girl  on  the  Alamo,
                                  She  drew from  her  garter a  dear little dagger,
                                  And—-sting of  a  wasp!-  -it made me  stagger!
                                  An  inch  to  the  Soft,  or an  in eh  to  the  right,
                                  And  T  shouldn't be  maundering here to-nigllt,;
                                  Bid she  sobbed,  and,  sobbing,  so  swiftly  bound
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