| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917. |
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| 273. In the Mohave |
| | | By Patrick Orr |
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| AS I rode down the arroyo through yuccas belled with bloom | |
| I saw a last year’s stalk lift dried hands to the light, | |
| Like age at prayer for death within a careless room, | |
| Like one by day o’ertaken, whose sick desire is night. | |
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| And as I rode I saw a lean coyote lying | 5 |
| All perfect as in life upon a silver dune, | |
| Save that his feet no more could flee the harsh light’s spying, | |
| Save that no more his shadow would cleave the sinking moon. | |
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| O cruel land, where form endures, the spirit fled! | |
| You chill the sun for me with your gray sphinx’s smile, | 10 |
| Brooding in the bright silence above your captive dead, | |
| Where beat the heart of life so brief, so brief a while! | |
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