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The Westerner

by Arthur Chapman

I'll never go where hills can't smile
Upon me, day and night,
And guard me, many a weary mile,
And aid me in life's fight.

From those white peaks I'll not stray far,
Where less bright is the day,
Nor see, toward dimmer evening star,
My camp-smoke curl its way.

I never want to seek in vain
That wondrous, high plateau—
That sage-clad, rolling Western plain
Where golden sunsets glow.

I never want to turn unto
Some rain-washed, foggy shore;
Here in this vasty land, and new,
Hunt me forevermore.

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