I went down into the desert To meet Elijah-- Or some one like, arisen from the dead. I thought to find him in an echoing cave, For so my dream had said.
I went down into the desert To meet John the Baptist. I walked with feet that bled, Seeking that prophet, lean and brown and bold. I spied foul fiends instead.
I went down into the desert To meet my God, By Him be comforted. I went down into the desert To meet my God And I met the Devil in Red.
I went down into the desert To meet my God. Oh Lord, my God, awaken from the dead! I see you there, your thorn-crown on the ground-- I see you there, half-buried in the sand-- I see you there, your white bones glistening, bare, The carrion birds a-wheeling round your head!
Is it for naught that where the tired crowds see Only a place for trade, a teeming square, Doors of high portent open unto me Carved with great eagles, and with Hawthorns rare?
Doors I proclaim, for there are rooms forgot Ripened through æons by the good and wise: Walls set with Art's own pearl and amethyst Angel-wrought hangings there, and heaven-hued dyes:--
Dazzling the eye of faith, the hope-filled heart:-- Rooms rich in records of old deeds sublime: Books that hold garnered harvests of far lands Pictures that tableau Man's triumphant climb:
Statues so white, so counterfeiting life, Bronze so ennobled, so with glory fraught That the tired eyes must weep with joy to see, And the tired mind in Beauty's net be caught.
Come, enter there, and meet Tomorrow's Man, Communing with him softly, day by day. Ah, the deep vistas he reveals, the dream Of Angel-bands in infinite array--
Bright angel-bands that dance in paths of earth When our despairs are gone, long overpast-- When men and maidens give fair hearts to Christ And white streets flame in righteous peace at last!
The mouse that gnawed the oak-tree down Began his task in early life, He kept so busy with his teeth He had no time to take a wife.
He gnawed and gnawed through sun and rain, When the ambitious fit was on, Then rested in the sawdust till A month in idleness had gone.
He did not move about to hunt The coteries of mousie-men; He was a snail-paced stupid thing Until he cared to gnaw again.
The mouse that gnawed the oak-tree down When that tough foe was at his feet-- Found in the stump no angel-cake Nor buttered bread, no cheese, nor meat--