The Footstep In The Desert

A man put love forth from his heart, And rode across the desert far away. "Woman shall have no place nor part In my lone life," men heard him say. He rode right on. The level rim Of the barren plain grew low and wide; It seemed to taunt and beckon him, To ride right on and fiercely ride.

One day he rode a well-worn path, And lo! even in that far land He saw (and cursed in gusty wrath) A woman's footprint in the sand. Sharply he drew the swinging rein, And hanging from his saddle bow Gazed long and silently--cursed again, Then turned as if to go.

"For love will seize you at the end, Fear loneliness--fear sickness, too, For they will teach you wisdom, friend." Yet he rode on as madmen do. He built a cabin by a sounding stream, He digged in cañons dark and deep, And ever the waters caused a dream And the face of woman broke his sleep.

It was a slender little mark, And the man had lived alone so long Within the cañon's noise and dark, The footprint moved him like a song. It spoke to him of women in the East, Of girls in silken robes, with shining hair, And talked of those who sat at feast, While sweet-eyed laughter filled the air.

And more. A hundred visions rose, He saw his mother's knotted hands Ply round thick-knitted homely hose, Her thoughts with him in desert lands. A smiling wife, in bib and cap, Moved busily from chair to chair, Or sat with apples in her lap, Content with sweet domestic care.

All these his curse had put away, All these were his no more to hold; He had his cañon cold and gray, He had his little heaps of gold.