Burning Grass and 100 Syllables of Tragedy

I can forgive as easily as snow will melt at winters end, and meekly though I say they hardly know I was as rough as country roads can bend, is it as tough To leave the burning grass behind and feel the same with fields no smoke has covered yet? we live for stormy days and know the real in life will yield, as sure as surest bet I like this, drifted far away to grass ablaze and wild to watch the tragedy.