Cut loose a hundred rivers, Roaring across my trail, Swift as the lightning quivers, Loud as a mountain gale. I build me a boat of slivers; I weave me a sail of fur, And ducks may founder and die But I Cross that river to her! Bunch the deserts together, Hang three suns in the vault; Scorch the lizards to leather, Strangle the springs with salt. I fly with a buzzard feather, I dig me wells with a spur, And snakes may famish and fry But I Cross that desert to her! Murder my sleep with revel; Make me ride through the bogs Knee to knee with the devil, Just ahead of the dogs. I harrow the Bad Lands level, I teach the tiger to purr, For saints may wallow and lie But I Go clean-hearted to her! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 8 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 67 by ALFRED TENNYSON PRAYER OF COLUMBUS by WALT WHITMAN ODES: BOOK 2: ODE 7. TO REVEREND BENJAMIN, LORD BISHOP OF WINCHESTER by MARK AKENSIDE FO'C'S'LE YARNS: ENVOY. GO BACK! by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN LA REVANCHE by GEORGE GORDON BYRON TO THYRZA (1) by GEORGE GORDON BYRON BALLAD TO THE TUNE OF 'FRANCKLIN'S IS FLED AWAY' by PATRICK CAREY |