 | In Cornwall and Across the Sea |  |
130
THE DESERT.
Written on the Suez Canal.
Scorched rocks and sand stretching for leagues away,
A few dwarf heaths, scant-leaved and choked with dust,
Such was the land when Moses led his host
In flight from Egypt, such is it to-day;
Although at noon may oft be seen a bay,
Tree fringed, which leads the traveller to trust
That he has reached the palm-begirt sea-coast,
And that his parched and weary limbs shall play—
When a few hours, a few more miles are o'er—
In the clear waters mirrored silver-fair,
Only to find an ever-stretching shore,
Ever-receding sea. The mirage there,
Is it not type of many a glittering hope
That turned to rock and sand when we came up?
| In Cornwall and Across the Sea | |