A Desert Paradox

GRASS OF RUINS

A DESERT PARADOX

Roof is a cover like the dust,

The weed a ruin of the ground;

And breath that keeps the arm from rust

Is terror that the rocks impound.

Dogs whimper in the blackened sage,

A lizard draws its furtive tongue;

And thought, by these, to creep or rage,

Is half in snowy mountains hung.

Sun is the eagle-sight, the throat

To burn. Where sandy gulfs display

A bloodless skull, the buzzard-mote

Within the beam night-watches day.

Dream is the agony, the stake,

The martyr in his cinder laid;

And love that keeps the heart awake,

Makes beauty of a stony shade.