Two riders travel into Echo Canyon after dark, with no moon to light their way — only stars and, briefly, a bright shooting star. The landscape is alive around them: wind moves through the sagebrush, a coyote calls somewhere in the distance. When they stop, they let the horses graze in the September grass and lie down together on the ground. The speaker feels a deep stillness and closeness. The wilderness is lovely and immense, but the poem’s real warmth comes from the shared moment: two people utterly alone together, away from everything else. The mood is hushed, tender, and a little awestruck — calm rather than lonely, because the vast night becomes a place of intimacy instead of isolation.
Echo Canyon — Summary
We ride to Echo Canyon, He rides with me tonight, No moon above to guide us, The stars alone are bright.
The wind is in the sagebrush; Somewhere a coyote calls; The studded sky is briefly lit As a flaming starlet falls.
We draw the rein together, He trembles as I pass To turn the horses free to graze In the wild September grass.
And now I stretch beside him Where he lies upon the ground, And in all this lovely wilderness We two alone are found.