Line up, line up!"
The hurried order smites the air;
Above the silent prairies fair
Unseen progression holds her cup,
Filled to the brim with magic seeds
That harvests hold for human needs.
Excitement grows on beasts and men;
The saddle girths are tightened o'er,
The stirrups lengthened out once more,
And silence softly falls again;
Each bit and buckle, strap and band,
Is tested o'er with careful hand,
And man and beast in chosen place
Stand ready for the coming race;

The circling sun
His morning race has fully run;
A waving hand
Signals above the brief command
That sight and sense will understand,--
And open swings the desert land!
A shot! A hundred, thousand more
The grassy meadows echo o'er;
A shout! From countless throats a shout,
On rolling wings leaps madly out;
A yell, a raging roar, that flies
On bounding winds o'er hill and glen,
And 'round the land electrifies
A thousand living miles of men!
A mammoth stir,