Emma Hawkridge

DELICATE land,

Fabulous land,

Clear as a bird-song afloat in the morning,

Keener than glacial air;

Exquisite gift of the slow-building sea,

Held like an altar up to the sky,

Circled with light, cliff-columns high

Rising aerially.

Dare men approach your enchantments of sand,

Land where the rainbow lies bare?—

Enter your sun-guarded gateways of space,

Mortals, like snails with a cheapening trail,

Fearful of mystery, wearily pale,

Out of today’s commonplace?

Over the wasteland a strong wind goes;

Like captured heat lies the cactus rose.

The desert sings:

Sand-precious flowers and quick lizards lie

In a world like the brazen bowl of the sky—

Sun-captured things.

Color and distance come weaving their dances,

Mystery-full the great silence advances;

Then, at your hand,

Marvelling, mortals unfold strange wings.

Delicate, fabulous land!