KHAMSIN
by: Clinton Scollard (1860-1932)
- H, the wind
from the desert blew in! -- Khamsin,
- The wind from the desert blew in!
- It blew from the heart of the fiery south,
- From the fervid sand and the hills of drouth,
- And it kissed the land with its scorching mouth;
- The wind from the desert blew in!
-
- It blasted the buds on the almond bough,
- And shriveled the fruit on the orange tree;
- The wizened dervish breathed no vow
- So weary and parched was he.
- The lean muezzin could not cry;
- The dogs ran mad, and bayed at the sky;
- The hot sun shone like a copper disk,
- And prone in the shade of an obelisk
- The water-carrier sank with a sigh,
- For limp and dry was his water-skin;
- And the wind from the desert blew in.
-
- The camel crouched by the crumbling wall,
- And, oh, the pitiful moan it made!
- The minarets, taper and slim and tall,
- Reeled and swam in the brazen light;
- And prayers went up by day and night,
- But thin and drawn were the lips that prayed.
- The river writhed in its slimy bed,
- Shrunk to a tortuous, turbid thread;
- The burnt earth cracked like a cloven rind;
- And still the wind, the ruthless wind, Khamsin,
- The wind from the desert, blew in!
-
- Into the cool of the mosque it crept,
- Where the poor sought rest at the prophet's shrine;
- Its breath was fire to the jasmine vine;
- It fevered the brow of the maid who slept,
- And men grew haggard with revel of wine.
-
- The tiny fledgling died in the nest;
- The sick babe gasped at the mother's breast.
- Then a rumor rose and swelled and spread
- From a tremulous whisper faint and vague,
- Till it burst in a terrible cry of dread.
- The plague! the plague! the plague!
- Oh, the wind, Khamsin,
- The scourge of the desert, blew in!
"Khamsin" is reprinted
from The Little Book of American Poets: 1787-1900. Ed.
Jessie B. Rittenhouse. Cambridge: Riverside Press, 1915. |
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POEMS BY CLINTON SCOLLARD |
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