Till fall of eve, when the vesper's peal
Calls the faithful again to kneel,
Nothing rouses the quiet place,
Lulled in the desert's hushed embrace,
Save when out of the distance dim,
Over the far horizon's rim,
Sudden a purring whisper comes,
Rising swift, like the throb of drums,
And the iron track which stretches forth,
Straight as a lance from south to north,