'Death Rode a Pinto Pony'

 

Death rode a pinto pony
      Along the Rio Grande,
 Beside the trail his shadow
      Was riding on the sand.

 

 The look upon his youthful face
      Was sinister and dark,
 And the pistol in his scabbard
      Had never missed its mark.

 

 The moonlight on the river
      Was bright as molten ore
 The ripples broke in whispers
      Along the sandy shore.

 

 The breath of prairie flowers
      Had made the night-wind sweet,
 And a mockingbird made merry
      In a lacy-leafed mesquite.

 

 Death looked toward the river,
      He looked toward the land
 He took his broad sombrero off
      And held it in his hand,
 And death felt something touch him
      He could not understand.

 

 The lights at Madden's ranch-house
      Were brighter than the moon,
 The girls came tripping in like deer,
      The fiddles were in tune,

 

 And death saw through the window
      The man he came to kill,
 And he that did not hesitate
      Sat hesitating still.

 

 A cloud came over the moon,
      The moon came out and smiled,
 A coyote howled upon the hill,
      The mockingbird went wild.

 

 Death drew his hand across his brow,
      As if to move a stain,
 Then slowly turned his pinto horse
      And rode away again.

 

—Whitney Montgomery (from The Road to Texas, 1940)