Turned into a mist of diamonds
As they mocked the newborn day.


8

Old Zach's pony bearing double,
Reeking steam from every pore,
Reached at last the covered pathway
Leading to the dug-out door.
With his arms clasped tight round Billy,
Zach half dragged his helpless load
Through the lowly, mud-walled entrance
Of his rudely built abode.
There, upon the narrow bunk bed
Spread with nondescript attire,
Zach enfolded him in wrappings
While he started up a fire;
And no nurse, however skillful,
Whatsoever her degree,
Ever gave more loyal service
To a patient, than did he.


9

Poor and meager were the comforts
Of Zach's cave-like prairie home,
Permeated with the odor
Of the fresh-dug virgin loam.