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I remember lighting fires; I remember sitting by them;
I remember seeing faces, hearing voices through the smoke;
I remember they were fancy—for I threw a stone to try 'em.

"Something lost behind the Ranges," was the only word they spoke.

I remember going crazy. I remember that I knew it
When I heard myself hallooing to the funny folk I saw.
Very full of dreams that desert: but my two legs took me through it ...
And I used to watch 'em moving with the toes all black and raw.

But at last the country altered—White man's country past disputing—

Rolling grass and open timber, with a hint of hills behind—