Complete Poetical Works by Bret Harte
page 81 of 326 (24%)
page 81 of 326 (24%)
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And tracked o'er the desert faint and far,
Its ribs shone bright on each sandy bar. Thus they stood as the sun went down Over the foot-hills bare and brown; Thus they looked to the South, wherefrom The pale-face medicine-man should come, Not in anger or in strife, But to bring--so ran the tale-- The welcome springs of eternal life, The living waters that should not fail. Said one, "He will come like Manitou, Unseen, unheard, in the falling dew." Said another, "He will come full soon Out of the round-faced watery moon." And another said, "He is here!" and lo, Faltering, staggering, feeble and slow, Out from the desert's blinding heat The Padre dropped at the heathen's feet. They stood and gazed for a little space Down on his pallid and careworn face, And a smile of scorn went round the band As they touched alternate with foot and hand This mortal waif, that the outer space Of dim mysterious sky and sand Flung with so little of Christian grace Down on their barren, sterile strand. |
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