In The Desert

In The Desert.
234.3
A narrow strip of dreary, sun-baked sand; sand;
Brown shadows, purpling dimly toward the edge;
A ribbon-width of tawny, sultry sky,
That presses inward like a circling band;
Even the sun sinks dully o’er the ledge,
And Night slips from his hiding-place near-by.

Within my tent I draw my curtain close
And light my candle, and prepare for rest.
And then I lay me down; but not to sleep;
It is too still. My longing backward goes
To rolling billows with high, wind-tost crest,
And white-winged vessels dipping on the deep.
-Cecilia A. Loizeaux,