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Brown and bare the desert,
Under a sun-cursed sky--
Far the stretch of the sand hills,
To the mountains, looming high--
Drear and dun the village,
Where somebody came to die.


Over the waste of the desert,
Gleamed the steely track,
Over the heart of somebody
The longing to go back--
Oh, that the light for somebody
Could shine through the coming black!


Gay and bright the laughter,
Under the ball-room light--
Low and sweet the music
Far into fleeting night--
Fair and queenly a woman,
Wielding her royal might.


She was the thought of somebody,
Coughing her life away,
Silently, hopelessly loving,
Loving and blessing always--
Constant the thought of somebody,
Loving, night and day.


Grim at the stake of the martyrs
Lifted their eyes and prayed!
First in the fray the soldier,
Firm and unafraid!
But out on the dreary desert
Somebody's grave was made!