 | [Give me the desert, in] Anthology of living American poets, 1898 |  |
8
GIVE ME THE DESERT.
And oh, the music of this world—
That sweetest music, of mute lips:
White ships with canvas ever furled;
Proud, silent, stately, peopled ships
That wait, wait winds that never come—
Forever breathless, ever dumb!
That sweetest music, of mute lips:
White ships with canvas ever furled;
Proud, silent, stately, peopled ships
That wait, wait winds that never come—
Forever breathless, ever dumb!
And oh, the pathos of the path
By hermit hut on mountain chine!
The drama of that hermit hath
Such music as the mountain pine.
But where the master, minstrel where
To strike the hermit's harp of air?
By hermit hut on mountain chine!
The drama of that hermit hath
Such music as the mountain pine.
But where the master, minstrel where
To strike the hermit's harp of air?
Give me the desert! I should trust
Nor sea nor ship nor mountain chine.
Nude nature, ashen, prone in dust;
So like this bittered life of mine.
Give me the desert, emptied quite
Of all that maketh man's delight.
Nor sea nor ship nor mountain chine.
Nude nature, ashen, prone in dust;
So like this bittered life of mine.
Give me the desert, emptied quite
Of all that maketh man's delight.
The desert! dust, bone, stone for me,
And there, companioned but by Him
Behold my faith shall grow a tree,
So bright all others shall grow dim;
So tall no serpent eye can sight;
So green no slander tongue can blight.
And there, companioned but by Him
Behold my faith shall grow a tree,
So bright all others shall grow dim;
So tall no serpent eye can sight;
So green no slander tongue can blight.
| [Give me the desert, in] Anthology of living American poets, 1898 | |