  Land of strange, unearthly beauty, Tawny Desert, over me Thou hast cast the deep enchantment Of some subtile sorcery! These thine endless barren reaches Where no fruitful harvests grow, Unto some bring nameless heartache; But to me thou dost not so! Here, where all the air seems newly From the springs of life distilled, Every breath is like a beaker With rare, sparkling rapture filled! And my heart exults and glories In the strange, compelling power Of enchanting, changeful color, That is thy supremest dower. Joy to me thine ever cloudless Sky of purest turquoise hue, And thy rosy mountain ranges Wrapped in pale, translucent blue. Shifting, shimmering evermore, In diaphanous, dazzling splendors Over all thy boundless floor, Where the low-boughed silver sage-bush Softly tufts the tawny land, And the tropic Spanish bayonet Clusters tall on every hand. While for leagues and leagues the cactus, Child of sun and sand and bare Rainless regions, lifts its columns Through the rare, transparent air. Wild and splendid in thy freedom, Unsubdued as is the sea, From the first, O lordly Desert, Thou hast drawn my heart to thee! Desolate thou art, and silent, Barren both of fruit and flower; Yet I love thine arid grandeur That defies man’s utmost power!
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