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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=115227" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Bones in the desert</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Where pilgrims seek the Prophet's tomb<br>  Across the Arabian waste,<br> Upon the ever-shifting sands,<br>  A fearful path is traced.<br> <br> Far up to the horizon's verge,<br>  The traveller sees it rise, --<br> The line of ghastly bones that bleach<br>  Beneath those burning skies.<br> <br> Across it, tempest and simoom<br>  The desert sands have strewed,<br> But still that line of spectral white<br>  Forever is renewed.<br> <br> For while along that burning track,<br>  The caravans move on,<br> Still do the way-worn pilgrims fall,<br>  Ere yet the shrine be won.<br> <br> There the tired camel lays him down<br>  And shuts his gentle eyes;<br> And there the fiery rider droops,<br>  Toward Mecca looks and dies.<br> <br> They fall unheeded from the ranks: --<br>  On sweeps the endless train,<br> But there, to mark the desert path,<br>  Their whitening bones remain.<br> <br> And thus I read the mournful tale,<br>  Upon the traveller's page,<br> I thought how like the march of life<br>  Is this sad pilgrimage.<br> <br> For every heart hath some fair dream,<br>  Some object unattained,<br> And far off in the distance lies<br>  Some Mecca to be gained.<br> <br> But beauty, manhood, love and power<br>  Go in their morning down,<br> And longing eyes and outstretched arms,<br>  Tell of the goal unwon.<br> <br> The mighty caravan of life<br>  Above their dust may sweep,<br> Nor shout, nor trampling feet shall break<br>  The rest of those who sleep.<br> <br> Oh! fountains that I have not reached,<br>  That gush far off e'en now,<br> When shall I quench my spirit's thirst<br>  Where your sweet waters flow.<br> <br> Oh! Mecca of my life-long dreams,<br>  Cloud palaces that rise<br> In that far distance, pierced by hope,<br>  When will ye greet mine eyes.<br> <br> The shadows lengthen toward the East<br>  From the declining sun,<br> And the pilgrim, as ye still recede,<br>  Sighs for the journey done.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Anne+Lynch+Botta">Anne Lynch Botta</a> from <i>Poems</i><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=115227" data-title="Bones in the desert de Anne Lynch Botta" data-description="Where pilgrims seek the Prophet's tomb/  Across the Arabian waste,/ Upon the ever-shifting sands,/  A fearful path is traced./ / Far up to the horizon's verge,/  The traveller sees it rise, --/ The line of ghastly bones that bleach/  Beneath those..."></div>
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