Page:Poetry, a magazine of verse, Volume 7 (October 1915-March 1916).djvu/363

Cliff Dwelling :The ponies straggle and scramble Half way up, along the canyon wall. Their listless riders seldom lift A weary hand to guide their feet, Stones are loosened and clatter Down to the sun-baked depths.


 * Nothing ever has lived here;

Nothing could ever live here: Two hawks, screaming and wheeling, Rouse a few eyes to look aloft.


 * Boldly poised in a shelf of the stone,

Tiny walls look down at us, Towers with little square windows.


 * When we plod up to them,

And dismounting fasten our horses, Suddenly a blue-gray flock of doves Bursts in a flutter of wings from the shadows.


 * Shards of pots and shreds of straw,

Empty brush-roofed rooms in darkness: And the sound of water tinkling— A clock that ticks the centuries off in silence.