From obituary (no date):

Bert Lowe enlisted in the Spanish-American war May 1, 1898 and served with the First Colorado Volunteer Infantry, Company A, until the end of the war. After the war he worked as a cowboy and rode the ranges of Western Colorado until arthritis forced him to give up that occupation. Since Sept. 4, 1925 he had lived in Cedaredge, Co. where he had been a bookkeeper for the Grand Mesa Water Users Association. He spent part of his time in writing, from which he derived much pleasure. His verse and stories were published in Denver papers and others, and were always read with interest by those who recognized unusual talent on the part of the author in portraying life in the West and the beauty of this part of Colorado.


EDITOR:
Western Colorado lost one of the best friends, and one who knew it best, on February 15, in the death of Bert Lowe of Cedaredge. A cattleman in this country since the early 'nineties, until recent years he so began to appreciate the grandeur of the West along with its more commonplace every-day life. Possessing underneath his cowboy attire the soul of a poet, he penned many verses that truthfully painted the pictures he saw, and feelings he experienced. His talent has been recognized on numerous occasions bysome of the country's largest publishers, but not yet to the extent that many who have read his verses believe he is entitled. The following verse is a favorite of some of his most intimate friends:

REVEILLE
By Bert Lowe

Nevermore shall I feel the delight of a horse,
The thrill of a contest, with wild cattle racing
To reach their retreat o'er wild, trackless course,
With boulders and rimrocks and trees interlacing.

Nevermore shall I mount to the unconquered back
Of a noted outlaw while the people are cheering,
To give him his head with the hackamore slack,
Pouring dust in each ear while a trail he is clearing.

Nevermore shall I slip on a renegade steer
The noose that will bring him safe in, to the dogies.
Who will call me old woman for shedding a tear,
Or class me as one of them whining old fogies?

But I dream of a roundup that eyes cannot see,
Out there on the rim where eternity's calling;
The clear, joyous notes of a sweet "reveille"
Float to me on the breeze as the twilight is falling.



WHEN YOU ARE GONE
By Bert Lowe to his wife

When you are gone my heart is sad and lonely,
Hoping you will soon return again;
When you are gone I'm thinking, thinkin, only,
Only of the time we'll meet again.

The robin's note has lost its joy and gladness,
There is no rosy rainboy in the West;
The melancholy breeze is full of sadness,
Empty bleak and lonely is the nest.

When you are gone my thoughts are ever roaming,
When you are gone the sky is never blue;
When you are gone the breezes in the gloaming,
Only bring a longing dear for you.

From the notes of Mary L. Sondburg: