Unrest

WE trekked our way to the desert,My soul and I, alone:We passed beyond the world of men,And all men call their own,And came where never yet were lawsOn parchment writ or stone.

Mid vast and barren stretchesWhere Age speaks not to Age,Where ne'er doth spring a living thingSave the everlasting sage,I felt as the savage coyote, free—With a freedom naught could cage.

No milestones mark the desert:Though seasons come and go,Where the arid sands unmeasured lieNone through the hour-glass flow;The desert has no memory—Nor can of promise know.

Unfettered mid the silence,Escaped from rule and law,The desert, like a sea-floor vast,Exultantly I saw;Yet distant heights that pierced the blue,Still troubled me with awe;

And when, turned from the mountains,I passed beyond the brushWhere a sea-floor without weed or shellBurns breathless in the hush,There came mirage my sense to mockWith grasses sweet and lush.

Thirst, not as that for water,—A thirst ne'er felt before,—Parched gradual in the soul of meTill I could bear no more;Earth seemed to cry: "Now whither flyFrom the dearth you struggled for?"

Reluctant, slow returningThe common lot to share,With a new and strange emotion—Half longing, half despair,I said: "For man is no escape:Here bides the Law, as there!"