IN the world's waste the human caravan Follows the track from which is no return; Beneath the sun's fierce furnace, scorched and wan, Forced the sweat drops to drink which on them burn. The lion roars, the storm breaks loud and stern; No tent, no tower, in all the plain you scan; No shade but of the vulture's wing discern, Hasting to feast on dying beast or man. Still on and on, until at last is seen, All unexpected sight, a spot of green, A cypress wood, with tall white stones around; To end your toil, God, in Time's weary waste, Like an oasis, sets a burial ground; There, fainting pilgrim! lie you down and rest. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GETTING A PURCHASE by KAREN SWENSON SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 22 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING BUNCHES OF GRAPES by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE AS KINGFISHERS CATCH FIRE by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS CLORINDA AND DAMON by ANDREW MARVELL THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 101. THE ONE HOPE by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI |