THE prophet tribe, with eyes of ardent glow, Hence started yesterday, and on their back Carried their children, who, if food they lack, Their mother's breasts their grateful streams bestow. The men on foot with shining weapons go Beside the vans, where wives and babes they pack, Casting their eyes on heaven's far distant track, Letting sad thought on vain chimeras flow. The crickets from their sandy dwelling-place, Watching them pass, sing with redoubled pace; Rhea, who loves them, makes the earth more green, Makes flow the rock, and makes the desert bloom To speed these wanderers on their path, for whom Fate still unwinds the thread of things unseen. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN A BREATH; TO THE WILLIAMSON BROTHERS by CARL SANDBURG THE REVENGE OF RAIN-IN-THE-FACE by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW SOJOURN IN THE WHALE by MARIANNE MOORE VANITAS VANITATUM, FR. THE DEVIL'S CASE LAW by JOHN WEBSTER YOU LINGERING SPARSE LEAVES OF ME by WALT WHITMAN |