Good God, can it be you made this place, This desolate desert land, This dreary waste where even the air Is filled with the shifting sand? And far away as the eye can reach Only the sage brush grows, Gnarled and twisted and hideous, While the eternal west wind blows. Oh, God, what a place! Yet off to the north Stand the mountains clouded with snow. Majestic and awful and towering, Guarding the desert below. Dear God, can it be you made these days, Dreary and lone and gray Where weary, monotonous, evermore, Day drags by after day. Where souls can hunger forevermore, On fire in a restless quest For some intangible wisp of a dream That floats in the heart of the West. Yet the dreary days in the desert land Are touched with one magic light— The glorious dreams that fire the soul Alone in the desert at night! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ELOISA TO ABELARD by ALEXANDER POPE THE REEDS by KONSTANTIN DMITRIYEVICH BALMONT FIRST NEWS FROM VILLAFRANCA by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING ON THE LATE CAPT. GROSE'S PEREGRINATIONS THRO' SCOTLAND by ROBERT BURNS BALLAD TO THE TUNE - 'I'LL DO BY THEE AS NE'ER WAS DONE' by PATRICK CAREY TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 3. THE WORD DEMOCRACY by EDWARD CARPENTER |