Montana Night. The velvet of the sky
Is powdered thick with silver dust. Below,
A realm of half-lights, where black shadows flow
To Stygian lakes, that spread and multiply.
Far to the east the Moccasins rise high
In jagged silhouette. Now, faint and low,
A night bird sounds his call. Soft Breezes blow,
Cool with the dampness of a stream hard by.
Dim, ghostly shapes of cattle grazing near
Drift steadily across the ray of light
From a lone cabin; and I think I hear
The barking of a dog. All things unite
To lull the senses of the eye and ear
In one sweet sense of rest; Montana night.
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Elliott Lincoln moved to Montana in 1908 and homesteaded near Lewistown. While in Montana, he published poetry that received fairly wide national attention. "Montana Night" was included in a 1920 volume called Rhymes of a Homesteader. He moved to California to teach after the homestead boom ended.
> Thanks to Mark Hufstetler for recommending this poem. <