WHAT is the desert? Thirst,
And very immolation’s loneliness!
Upon that land of death dry ridges press,
Like to sand-drifts on the tongue—
And the sequestered heart through fear will burst.

Armies have gone along,
Defeated, to oblivion among
The naught of those bare sands—
Banners and horses and bright-harnessed bands.
None hath beheld the banners wave and slip
Abyssward, and the horses, under whip
Of crazy dust, plunge down
With manes sand-tossed,
Beneath the plain they crossed,
Making athwart the breadth a little frown,
Gone in its very moment, like the smile
That followed, as the horsemen flashed awhile
Above the grave, and sank bright, and were gone.

O desert, full of plots,
On lapping water, of sleek palm-tree knots,
And isles in haunted channels; cruel earth,
Mirage of desolation, grace of dearth,
Many have died in anguish at the pain
Never to drink those lakes that gibe and wane!
“I thirst”—“My God, Thou hast forsaken Me!”
Parched, sinking in abysses mortally,
O Christ, and there is none to succour Thee,
Water of Life, perpetual Deity!