Swelled the hallowed evening anthem
To the bass of lowing herds.


20

Then the trail along the Solomon
Where the timber, making friends
With the ever-widening valley,
Filled the rounded river bends;
Then the rankling recollection,
As he passed some well-known place
Where before, with hope and vigor,
He had sped in fruitless chase.
Then the lonely camp at nightfall,
Where the wind in monotone
Thrummed the harp strings of the grass stems,
Breathing low its song, "Alone!"
Where the stars, fixed in the heavens,
To his upturned face would say,
With their heartless glint of distance,
"She thou seek'st is far away."


21

Then the long, far-reaching bottoms
Rank with withered blue-joint grass,
With its broken stems entangled
In a matted jungle mass;