A Dream in the Desert 



I sing of the fiery horse of steel, 



Flying across the plain, 

 Over a land of wealth and weal, 



With clouds of smoky mane; 

 Of the mills' and factories' toilful roar, 



I sing in reposeful strain ; 

 Of fragrant fields all covered o'er 



With gifts of sun and rain. 



I sing of the sand dunes clad in green 



That once were brown and bare, 

 Of fertile vales that stretch between, 



And the homes that nestle there; 

 I sing of the happy bride and groom, 



I sing of the wealth-filled mines, 

 I sing of the orchards draped with bloom, 



I sing of the stately pines. 



I sing of the limpid springs that flow 



From the icy hearts of hills, 

 From the beautiful drifts of eternal snow, 



And laughing in lovely rills; 

 I sing of the numberless herds that graze 



On the boundless grass-grown plain, 

 Of luscious fruits and the oily maize, 



And the wheat-fields' golden grain. 



Through all the singing a wistful look had been in 

 Wewoka's eyes. Long-forgotten things had once again re- 

 turned, and memory in his eyes and on his face was playing 

 hide-and-seek with them. "It is a song about the things 

 of which I used to dream," he said. "The song has stirred 

 again faint hints of hope. Now I know that mountains can 

 sing and winds can carry messages. But these hot sands and 

 this dreary desert seem far away from the green fields of that 



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