Frederic Remington, American
“Huh. Still Nobody. I Told You We Should’ve Called To Confirm Before Coming All the Way Out Here,” 1889
Oil on canvas
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Info, or links that point to more info, about this artist can be found here, here (archived if necessary), here, here, here (can be read in full for free on Fridays), here, here, here, here, and here, perhaps in addition to what’s in his Wikipedia page.
/// He is stylish, The Mexican Major,
and a man of great pride, I would wager.
On his boots, silver spurs.
Palomino prefers
he not use them, (they simply enrage her).
/// Spurred too hard, her gold coat may well bleed.
She might bolt; he could not intercede.
Then the Major might find
his troops charging behind
in a huge inadvertent stampede.
/// A wild charge could have dangers, perhaps.
Major’s saddle might snap several straps.
If he’s thrown to the dust
his sombrero gets mussed
and he’d probably soil his white chaps.
/// Peacock Major commands caballeros
who wear helmets instead of sombreros.
His gives shade. (The large brim.)
But theirs has that red trim
up on top of the hat where it narrows.
/// Major’s aide, by his side, may aspire
to a badge of command somewhat higher.
Should there be an attack,
Major should watch his back.
(Popinjays can fall from friendly fire.)
/// Is their Major, (clothed better and brighter),
picked to lead because he’s their best fighter?
I don’t know if that’s so,
but there’s one thing I know:
than his hundreds of men, his skin’s whiter.
/// The troops suffer; they’re all looking beat.
They wear black, which absorbs summer’s heat.
As for shade, they have none
from the sweltering sun.
There’s no foe, yet they still taste defeat.
/// Is it warfare if nobody came?
Who’s the “winner” and who gets the blame?
Those who get these wars started
are by peace broken-hearted.
Without bloodshed, it isn’t the same.