Midway upon the route, he paused athirst;
    And suddenly across the wastes of heat,
    He saw cool waters gleaming, and a sweet
Green oasis upon his vision burst.
A tender dream, long in his bosom nursed,
    Spread love's illusive verdure for his feet;
    The barren sands changed into golden wheat;
The way grew glad that late had seemed accursed.

She shone, the woman wonder, on his soul;
    The garden spot, for which men toil and wait;
       The house of rest, that is each heart's demand;
But when, at last, he reached the gleaming goal,
    He found, oh, cruel irony of fate,
       But desert sun upon the desert sand.

Poems of Progress and New Thought Pastels by Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
London: Gay & Hancock, 1911.

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