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Charles Badger Clark poems, quotations and biography on Charles Badger Clark poet page. Read all poems of Charles Badger Clark and infos about Charles Badger Clark.
Charles Badger Clark (January 1, 1883 – September 26, 1957) was an American poet.
Charles Badger Clark was born on January 1, 1883 in Albia, Iowa. His family moved to Dakota Territory, where his father served as a Methodist preacher in Huron, Mitchell, Deadwood and Hot Springs. He dropped out of Dakota Wesleyan University after he clashed with one of its founders, C.B. Clark. He travelled to Cuba, returned to Deadwood, South Dakota, where he contracted tuberculosis, then moved to Tombstone, Arizona to assuage his illness with the dry weather. He returned again to South Dakota in 1910 to take care of his ailing father. There, he contracted tuberculosis. In 1925, he moved to a cabin in ... more »
Charles Badger Clark Poems
One time, 'way back where the year marks fade
God said: 'I see I must lose my West,
The place where I've always come to rest,
For the White Man grows till he fights for bread... more »
The wind is blowin' cold down the mountain tips of snow
And 'cross the ranges layin' brown and dead;
It's cryin' through the valley trees that wear the mistletoe
And mournin' with the gray clouds ...... more »
Men of the older, gentler soil,
Loving the things that their fathers wrought-
Worn old fields of their father's toil,
Scarred old hills where their fathers fought-... more »
Spanish is the lovin' tongue,
Soft as music, lights as spray.
'Twas a girl I learnt it from,
Livin' down Sonora way.... more »
I rode across a valley range
I hadn't seen for years.
The trail was all so spoilt and strange
It nearly fetched the tears.... more »
(Written for Mother)
Oh Lord, I've never lived where churches
grow.
I love creation better as it stood
That day You finished it so long ago... more »
Trailing the last gleam after,
In the valleys emptied of light,
Ripples a whimsical laughter
Under the wings of the night.... more »
Comments about Charles Badger Clark
A Cowboy's Prayer
(Written for Mother)
Oh Lord, I've never lived where churches
grow.
I love creation better as it stood
That day You finished it so long ago
And looked upon Your work and called it
good.
I know that others find You in the light
That's sifted down through tinted window
panes,
And yet I seem to feel You near tonight
In this dim, quiet starlight on the plains.
I thank You, Lord, that I am placed so well,
That You have made my freedom so com-
plete;
That I'm no slave of whistle, clock or bell,
Nor weak-eyed prisoner of wall and street.
Just...
Do you have a printed copy of mr. Clarke’s poems?
" Doggerel" is it? I certainly love steak and salmon, but a chuckwagon stew is nourishing comfort food. Clark's poems take me back to the horses, campfires and bedrolls of my uncomplicated growing years,