HOW the earth burns! Each pebble under foot Is as a living thing with power to wound. The white sand quivers, and the footfall mute Of the slow camels strikes but gives no sound, As though they walked on flame, not solid ground! 'T is noon, and the beasts' shadows even have fled Back to their feet, and there is fire around And fire beneath, and the sun overhead. Pitiful Heaven! what is this we view? Tall trees, a river, pools, where swallows fly, Thickets of oleander where doves coo, Shades, deep as midnight, greenness for tired eyes. Hark, how the light winds in the palm-tops sigh! Oh, this is rest! oh, this is paradise! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BEACON; A MUSICAL DRAMA by JOANNA BAILLIE NELL COOK; A LEGEND OF THE 'DARK ENTRY': THE KING'S SCHOLAR'S STORY by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM MISTRESS FATE by WILLIAM ROSE BENET A NEW PILGRIMAGE: 16 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THE UNITED STATES SUPREME COURT by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE THE SHOES THAT DANCED by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 8 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING A PASTORAL ECLOGUE UPON THE DEATH OF SIR PHILIP SIDNEY KNIGHT by LODOWICK BRYSKETT |