The moon's a brass-hooped water-keg, <br />A wondrous water-feast. <br />If I could climb the ridge and drink <br />And give drink to my beast; <br />If I could drain that keg, the flies <br />Would not be biting so, <br />My burning feet be spry again, <br />My mule no longer slow. <br />And I could rise and dig for ore, <br />And reach my fatherland, <br />And not be food for ants and hawks <br />And perish in the sand.<br /><br />Vachel Lindsay<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/what-the-miner-in-the-desert-said/
