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Show THE MIRAGES. By Minna Irving. Across the painted desert, Toward the burning skies, From plains of phantom verdure Their purple peaks arise. The mist along their summits I A scarf of silver trails, From oliff to cliff the waters Fling down their foamy veils. From Arizona's furnace Of arid sands and stones, And dusty cactus gardens Strewn thick with bleaching bones, The traveller at sunrise Beholds their ramparts gay, And seeks their cooling shadows To see them fade away. Ghost mountains of the mesas, No living foot can climb Their canyons bright with blossoms Or ledges dark with thyme. For there the desert victims, (So say the Navajos), Who die of thirst and hunger, Alone may find repose. |