The Desert

Through dusty years, and drearily,

Two lovers rode across a desert hill

While patient love followed them wearily

Through the long, sultry day...

But when night came, the desert had its way,

Turning, they found love cold and still.

It lay so pitiful a thing,

Threadbare, and soiled, and worn —

“Why have we kept such starveling love?” she cried,

“Was it worth treasuring?”

And he replied:

“Bury it then! I shall not mourn!”

The wind came from the West,

It seemed to blow

Across a million graves to the sordid bier

Where lay their love. She said: “We will bury it here!”

They laid it low,

They rode on, dispossessed.

And all around

Rose silent hills against the darkening sky,

Wave upon motionless wave.

The night wind made a mournful sound.

The woman turned: “It is lonely here!

I am afraid!” she said.

He made reply:

“What is there left to lose or save?

What is there left to fear?

Our hearts are empty. Have we not buried our dead?”

She said, “I fear the empty dark, be kind!”

He said, “I am still here, be comforted!”

Then from its shallow grave

Their love rose up and followed close behind.