Oh, town of ghosts and drifted sand, How gaunt your beaten houses stand, With flapping doors that idly swing As desert winds their forces bring Against the splintered panels gray -- While on your thresholds, pack-rats play. Oh, little dead Nevada town Of dusty gray and faded brown, In your steep streets, the tumble-weed Has dropped in ruts and gone to seed. The sky -- the earth -- the universe Lie stark beneath some lonely curse! Tell me -- do you remember days When through a misty, golden haze You planned on wealth and happiness, And never dreamed it could be less? When nuggets bright passed hand to hand -- When men called this the promised land? Now, down your lonely, empty streets Only the echo beats -- and repeats Like a haunting song sung o'er and o'er, The squeaking hinge and slamming door. Little town of ghosts and drifted sand -- How long will your battered houses stand? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SOCIETY UPON THE STANISLAUS by FRANCIS BRET HARTE BLACK AND BLUE EYES by THOMAS MOORE FEELINGS OF A REPUBLICAN ON THE FALL OF BONAPARTE by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY MOON AND VENUS by ABUL MUGHIRA PSALM 7. DOMINE DEUS MEUS by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE THE WARRIOR MAID by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH |