IN the world's waste the human caravan Follows the track from which is no return; Beneath the sun's fierce furnace, scorched and wan, Forced the sweat drops to drink which on them burn. The lion roars, the storm breaks loud and stern; No tent, no tower, in all the plain you scan; No shade but of the vulture's wing discern, Hasting to feast on dying beast or man. Still on and on, until at last is seen, All unexpected sight, a spot of green, A cypress wood, with tall white stones around; To end your toil, God, in Time's weary waste, Like an oasis, sets a burial ground; There, fainting pilgrim! lie you down and rest. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BALLADE OF DEAD FRIENDS by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON A SUN-DAY HYMN [OR LAMENT] by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES THE RUBAIYAT, 1879 EDITION: 16 by OMAR KHAYYAM DRINKING SONG, FR. THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL by RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN NOCTURNE by JOHN VAN ALSTYN WEAVER |