A fleet of schooners slowly respond To the leaning weight of obedient oxen. The dull musical chuckle Of wooden wheels pervades the stifled air, As through pools of powdered, churning dust They splash. Along the rim of deepened ruts -- Between the crackling, cloven hoofs Of laboring oxen -- Small puffs of earth explode And choke the heavy-laden air. Close beside, Thin blades of gray, stark grass Lie bowed beneath a scorching sun. The swollen lips of man and beast Wax parched and dry. Plaintive cries, hoarse shouts, Enduring songs -- a tumult Moves across the desert waste. Erupting dust begins A devil-dance above the tortured ground; A mocking circle of dust that spirals Far into the blue. Intent, a buzzard . . . wheeling . . . whirling. . . . Looks down through the shimmering veil of heat -- His distorting spectacles of hate -- Upon the mute spectacle below. Heedless wooden wheels Follow serpent trails of liquid dust That lead toward the flaming western rim. A hub, a spoke, a tire, a pin, a felly or spindle Marks a hazard halt or lonely grave -- The grim insignia Of wooden wheels. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WRITTEN AFTER SWIMMING FROM SESTOS TO ABYDOS by GEORGE GORDON BYRON WITCHCRAFT BY A PICTURE by JOHN DONNE SOULS LAKE by ROBERT STUART FITZGERALD THE SLAVE'S DREAM by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE LAST BALLADE; MASTER FRANCOIS VILLON LOQUITUR by THOMAS BEER SONG: NOT A WORD by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |