Beside the wagon that he drew,—
Where the forsaken campfires smoke
To hopeless skies of tawny blue;
And here are straight, still mounds that mark
The flight of life's delusive spark—
The sombre points of pause that lie
So thick in human destiny.
And O, so dark on this bleak page
Of drifting sand and dreary sage!
The sultry levels of the day
The night with weird enchantment fills,
And frowning forests stretch away
Along the slopes of shadow hills;
And in the solemn stillness breaks
The wild wolf-music of the plain,
As if a deeper sorrow wakes
The dreary dead in that refrain
That swells and gathers like a wail
Of woe from Pluto's ebon pale,
And sinks in pulseless calm again.
Where the forsaken campfires smoke
To hopeless skies of tawny blue;
And here are straight, still mounds that mark
The flight of life's delusive spark—
The sombre points of pause that lie
So thick in human destiny.
And O, so dark on this bleak page
Of drifting sand and dreary sage!
The sultry levels of the day
The night with weird enchantment fills,
And frowning forests stretch away
Along the slopes of shadow hills;
And in the solemn stillness breaks
The wild wolf-music of the plain,
As if a deeper sorrow wakes
The dreary dead in that refrain
That swells and gathers like a wail
Of woe from Pluto's ebon pale,
And sinks in pulseless calm again.
A change at last! An opal mist
Along the faint horizon's rim
Is banked against the amethyst
Of summer's sky,—so far, so dim,
You shade your eyes and gaze and gaze
Until there wavers into sight
A swinging, swaying strand of white,
And then the sapphire walls and towers
That break the light in quivering showers
And float and fade in diamond haze—
Along the faint horizon's rim
Is banked against the amethyst
Of summer's sky,—so far, so dim,
You shade your eyes and gaze and gaze
Until there wavers into sight
A swinging, swaying strand of white,
And then the sapphire walls and towers
That break the light in quivering showers
And float and fade in diamond haze—
