Beneath the train the miles are folded by: High and still higher thro' the vibrant air We mount and climb. Silence and brazen glare; Desert and sage-brush; cactus; alkali; Tiny, low-growing flowers, brilliant, dry; A vanishing coyote lean and spare, Lopes slowly homeward with a backward stare To jig-saw hills cut sharp against the sky. In the hard turquoise rides a copper sun: Old hopes come thronging with an urge, a zest: Beside the window gliding wires run, Binding two oceans. Argosy and quest! Old dreams remembered to be dreamed and @3done!@1 It is young air we breathe. This is the West! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...I SAW THREE SHIPS by MOTHER GOOSE ON THE DEATH OF THE REV. MR. GEORGE WHITEFIELD, 1770 by PHILLIS WHEATLEY THE NUANCES OF MENDACITY by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS PHILIP, KING OF MACEDON by ALCAEUS OF MESSENE CASTOR AND POLYDEUCES by ALCAEUS OF MYTILENE |