Читать книгу The Trail of the Goldseekers: A Record of Travel in Prose and Verse - Garland Hamlin - Страница 14

The horned toad creeping along the sand,

The rattlesnake asleep beneath the sage,

Have now a subtle fatal charm.

In their sultry calm, their love of heat,

I read once more the burning page

Of nature under cloudless skies.

O pitiless and splendid land!

Mine eyelids close, my lips are dry

By force of thy hot floods of light.

Soundless as oil the wind flows by,

Mine aching brain cries out for night!