"Crossing the Plains" is a frustrating work because it shows Miller at his best and worst at the same time. At his best because he exploits one of his greatest strengths; that he was eye-witness to the age of the pioneer and the 49er. Reality offers quirky details that would never occur to pure imagination and experience is more vivid than the most lurid fantasy. Here, Miller's depiction of the oxen plodding across the plains get its power not from imagination but from memories of the summer he spent walking the breadth of America beside his father's ox team.

Not a Poseur

But is he a poet?

People have called him a poseur but that is not fair. He was the real deal as a pioneer, a 49er, a native product of the American west. But there were some western qualities whether embodied in the trappers of the 1830s or the cow hands of the 1880s that are fatal to creating good art. The most notable among these is the willingness to settle for "good enough." For the western pioneers this often made sense. A cabin only needed to be good enough for a season or two until the claim was exhausted. The west is full of places that became bustling towns overnight then faded away almost as quickly when the drought came or the railroad picked another town. In such an environment building for the ages was a waste of time. In fact there is a distinctive style of western building which was designed to be easily knocked flat, loaded on a wagon and carted to a new site. Miller's art follows the same pattern and he self-plagiarizes relentlessly. In a world where transport is extremely expensive it makes sense to reuse every scrap as much as possible. This is a case where the culture he grew up with may not have served him well as an artist.

Close to Really Good

But no cigar

This poem has so many arresting images and good lines that is is a pity that he did not spend one more day to go from "some good stuff" to a poem that could stand the test of time. Even his best lines get spoiled by laziness: "brutes with briskets low," and "Their sable briskets swept the ground" are both engaging images and "briskets" is a good word. But twice in a two stanza poem is repetitive without sufficient justification. The same with "round, brown, liquid, pleading eyes" "That shone like love's eyes soft with tears" and "Their great eyes shining bright like wine." Once again an evocative image and if each mention built upon the others to some result, it could be outstanding but as it is it seems that Miller liked each to much to cut but would not take the time to make them work together. And again: "Their cloven feet kept solemn sound." is very close to "stately stepp'd and stately trod."

And Yet,

Not bad either

As I said, frustrating because taken singly or in couplets there are quite a few good lines here. And I must admit that,

• Two sullen captive kings were they,
• That had in time held herds at bay,
• And even now they crush'd the sod
• With stolid sense of majesty,
• And stately stepp'd and stately trod,
• As if 'twere something still to be
• Kings even in captivity.

is pretty good poetry for someone with as little exposure to high culture or even paved streets as Miller had in his formative years.

Stars and Also-rans

Many are called but few are chosen

The history of literature is full of writers who were popular in their day and now are almost unknown. And the fact that some vanish and then reappear can make it seem that the process is completely arbitrary. It does contain a degree of luck but there remains an necessary minimum for enduring art. The rocks that remain when the turbulent present has swept past need a core of concious work and sustained effort to endure. The truly great worked a little harder and longer than their peers. I believe that art is a sub category of obsessive-compulsive disorder. Pretty good and good enough are barriers to greatness. Miller was always ready to settle for good enough.