 | Joaquin Miller's Poems |  |
XXXI
A land-lost sea with sable bredes,Save where some bastions still are seen,
A river stealing through the reeds,
Dark, silent, sinuous, serpentine,
In sullen haste toward the sun—
Such lonesome land, such lonesome sea,
Such wine-hued women at the oar,
In silent pairs along the shore!
But not one man in sight, not one
To draw machete or bear a gun.
| Joaquin Miller's Poems | |