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A Child's Own Book of Verse, Book Three by  Ada M. Skinner and Frances Gillespy Wickes

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ON THE DESERT

All around,

To the bound

Of the vast horizon's round,

All sand, sand, sand—

All burning, glaring sand—

On my camel's hump I ride,

As he sways from side to side,

With an awkward step of pride,

And his scraggy head uplifted, and his eye

So long and bland.


[6]

Naught is near,

In the blear

And the simmering atmosphere,

But the shadow on the sand,

The shadow of the camel on the sand;

All alone as I ride

O'er the desert's ocean wide,

It is ever at my side;

It haunts me, it pursues me, if I flee or if I stand.


Not a sound

All around

Save the paddled heat and bound

Of the camel on the sand

Of the feet of the camel on the sand.

Not a bird is in the air,

Though the sun, with burning stare,

Is prying everywhere,

O'er the yellow thirsty desert, so

Desolately grand.

—WILLIAM WETMORE STORY.


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