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BONES IN THE DESERT.
BONES IN THE DESERT.
Where pilgrims seek the Prophet’s tomb
Across the Arabian waste,
Upon the ever-shifting sands,
A fearful path is traced.
Across the Arabian waste,
Upon the ever-shifting sands,
A fearful path is traced.
Far up to the horizon’s verge,
The traveller sees it rise,—
The line of ghastly bones that bleach
Beneath those burning skies.
The traveller sees it rise,—
The line of ghastly bones that bleach
Beneath those burning skies.
Across it, tempest and simoom
The desert sands have strewed,
But still that line of spectral white
Forever is renewed.
The desert sands have strewed,
But still that line of spectral white
Forever is renewed.
For while along that burning track,
The caravans move on,
Still do the way-worn pilgrims fall,
Ere yet the shrine be won.
The caravans move on,
Still do the way-worn pilgrims fall,
Ere yet the shrine be won.
