Far Horizons

by Bliss Carman




SUN fades the rosiest plaster,
Sand wears the sill away,
But the buildings 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.