The cactus in the desert stands br Like time's inviolate sentinel, br Watching the sun-washed waste of sands br Lest they their ancient secrets tell. br And the lost lore of mournful lands br It knows alone and guards too well. br br Wiser than Sphynx or pyramid, br It points a stark hand at the sky, br And all the stars alight or hid br It counts as they go rolling by; br And mysteries the gods forbid br Darken its heavy memory. br br I asked how old the world was—yea, br And why yon ruddy mountain grew br Out of hell's fire. By night nor day br It answered not, though all it knew, br But lifted, as it stopped my way, br Its wrinkled fingers toward the blue. br br Inscrutable and stern and still br It waits the everlasting doom. br Races and years may do their will— br Lo, it will rise above their tomb, br Till the drugged earth has drunk her fill br Of light, and falls asleep in gloom.