Song of the Sand Storm

I am the pitiless Sand Storm,
The whelp of a tameless breed--
My dam the desert, my sire the air;
I stealthily come from my shadowy lair,
And away, and away I speed!
 
I lie in the sun on the mesa
Outstretching my yellow length;
I drowse and I purr in a tigerish way,
Then suddenly leap on my terrified prey
With more than a tiger's strength!
 
I scar the cliffs in my fury,
Effacing their ancient runes;
I polish the skeleton bones that lie
Unnoted, unburied--and scurrying by,
Heap higher the gray sand dunes.
 
The arrogant sentinel mountains
Make challenge--yet little I reck;
And vainly the obdurate cactus sets
In my pathway a million bayonets--
It never my course can check.
 
The pace of the caravan quickens
At the thought of my wild caprice;
And the thunder rouses and beats his drums
To tell the world that the Sand Storm comes--
And the songs and the laughter cease!