No life in earth, or air, or sky

The sunbeams, broken silently,

On the bared rocks around me lie,

Cold rocks with half-warmed lichens scarred,

And scales of moss; and scarce a yard

Away, one long strip, yellow-barred.

Lost in a cleft! 'Tis but a stride

To reach it, thrust its roots aside,

And lift it on thy stick astride!

For round thee, thrilling air and space,

A chattering terror fills the place!

A sound as of dry bones that stir

In the dead Valley! By yon fir

The locust stops its noonday whir!

The wild bird hears; smote with the sound,

As if by bullet brought to ground,

On broken wing, dips, wheeling round!

The hare, transfixed, with trembling lip