Arthur Chapman (poet)

American poet and newspaper columnist (1873–1935)
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Arthur Chapman (June 25, 1873 – December 4, 1935) was an early twentieth century American poet and newspaper columnist.


  • Out where the handclasp’s a little stronger,
    Out where the smile dwells a little longer,
    That’s where the West begins.
  • We used to run a cow-ranch,
    In all that old term meant,
    But all our ancient glories
    In recent years have went;
    We’re takin’ summer boarders,
    And, puttin’ it quite rude,
    It’s now the cowboy’s province
    To herd the festive dude.
  • The sheep are down at the water, a-drinkin' their bloomin' fill,
    An' me and the dog are dozin', as herders and collies will;
    The world may be movin' somewheres, but here it is standin' still.
  • It's hard to think that in cities there's men who are goin' to mad,
    Each strivin' to beat his fellows and get what the others had;
    And from this here peaceful viewpoint, such doin's look bad, plum bad.
    • The Herder's Reverie, st. 3.
  • It was jest another instance of a flaw in work of man;
    A lefty never figgered in the gunman’s battle plan;
    There ain’t no scheme man thinks of that Dame Nature cannot beat —
    So his pupils are unlearnin’ that cute trick they got from Pete.
  • He is the last of that old guard defending Cattle Land,
    Those knights who jousted for the cause — blood brothers of the brand;
    But now they’ve fenced the water-hole, they’re harrowing the plain,
    They’re changing all the sagebrush flats to fields of waving grain;
    The cowmen will be gone, they say, and there are no recruits —
    Good-bye, brave cattle-puncher in the high-heeled boots!
  • Out among the big things —
    The mountains and the plains —
    An hour ain’t important,
    Nor are the hour’s gains;
    The feller in the city
    Is hurried night and day,
    But out among the big things
    He learns the calmer way.
  • Out among the big things —
    The heights that gleam afar —
    A feller gets to wonder
    What means each distant star;
    He may not get an answer,
    But somehow, every night
    He feels, among the big things,
    That everything’s all right.
    • Out Among the Big Things, st. 3.
  • We welcome folks in Cactus Center if they've got an honest lay;
    If their game ain't too durn crooked, we never stop the play;
    But a get-rich-quicker blew in, with a game we did n't like,
    So we did n't waste the minutes in invitin' him to hike.
  • There ain't no leaves to turn to gold—
    There ain't a tree in sight—
    In other ways the herder's told
    October's come, all right.
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