• Beneath the burning brazen sky,
    The yellowed tepees stand.
    Not far away a singing river
    Sets through the sand.
    Within the shadow of a lonely elm tree
    The tired ponies keep.
    The wild land, throbbing with the sun’s hot magic,
    Is rapt as sleep.

    From out a clump of scanty willows
    A low wail floats,—
    The endless...