Page:Anthology of Magazine Verse (1921).djvu/90

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BORASAN
In the desert near KhotanLie the bones of Borasan.Once its roofs were red and blueWhere the pear and poplar grew;Once where river barges rodeRainbow stuffs of barter glowed,—Peacock plumes and scarlet wool,Silver fish from Kara-Kul,Apricots and carven jades,Mills for prayer, beaten blades.Mounded now are sands aboveBuried barter, buried love,Only winds that burrow deepTumble sunward from their sleepRings engreened upon the bone,Buddhas smiling in blue stone,Coins, combs, toys, the dust of vases,Walls the restless sand effaces.
Men with sword and torch and shoutDid not blot that city out.Men were sand to pass and pass,Gleam and shadow, through her glass.
Buddha begging with a bowlSpread the white peace of his soul.
Eyes beneath a shading hand,Gazing eastward over sand,Alexander, desert-burned,Dreamed, and looked his fill, and turned.
Westward riding Ghengis KhanStopped to ask of BorasanSeven asses heaped with pearls,Meat and millet, fifty girls.These he got, and did not stay. . .

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