Classic Poem

“Have mercy, God!” and on the dune sun-curs'd
He fell, his gourd crushed in his shrunken hand;
Yet in the anguish of consuming thirst
His purple lips touched but the burning sand.
The spiteful sun, mocking his feeble cry,
Drank his red sap as from its solstice-throne
It slow dropped down behind the western sky,
Leaving him there on the wide waste—alone!
Alone? Nay, for the slimy lizard crept
Across his blistered flesh; and soon the long
Thin serpent came, and, coiling where he slept,
Hissed in his ear and sang its deadly song;
While harsh the wind made sport against his cheek
And starved coyotes answered shriek on shriek.