Sanctuary

Sun fades the rosiest plaster, Sand wears the sill away, But the building of the Master Must stand till Judgment Day.

The sky shall roof my chancel, The desert be its floor,— All lesser plans I cancel Than these forevermore.

Its walls shall be the ranges, Rose-ash and blue and dun, Where the light shifts and changes— A tapestry of the sun.

There will I have in winter A bluebird for my choir, And sunrise there will enter To touch my soul with fire,

Where hoarfrost shot with morning For the Lord's carpet lies, With gleaming snows adorning His walls of Paradise.

The wind among the yuccas Will be the organ tone, Bearing the word it utters In music all its own.

There will I think on Beauty Her other names to know,— Learning the mystic duty Of suppliants long ago.

The azure noons will teach me The wisdom of the trail, And the great stillness reach me Beyond the farthest hail.

And there, his least evangel, At sundown will I stand, Until the Desert Angel Shall bring me my command.

Yucca Loma Ranch, Victorville, California. February, 1925.