NIGHT ON THE DESERT

BY W. H. GARDNER

An acrid hint of ozone, and far-flung
The cold pure vault of heaven hung
With incandescent worlds.

A light keen breath of new-born breeze.
'Twixt purple sky and purple plain a frieze
Of bordering buttes.

At foot, white sand all luminous—a dearth
Of sound or life—a moon-like earth,
An inorganic world.