But barer in front.
“A land of chasm and rent, a land
Of rugged blackness on either hand;
If water trickled, its track was tanned
With an edge of rust to the chink;
If one stamped on stone or on sand,
It returned a clink.
“A lifeless land, a loveless land,
Without lair or nest on either hand
Only scorpions jerked in the sand,