No life in earth, or air, or sky The sunbeams, broken silently, On the bared rocks around me lie, Cold rocks with half-warmed lichens scarred, And scales of moss; and scarce a yard Away, one long strip, yellow-barred. Lost in a cleft! 'Tis but a stride To reach it, thrust its roots aside, And lift it on thy stick astride! For round thee, thrilling air and space, A chattering terror fills the place! A sound as of dry bones that stir In the dead Valley! By yon fir The locust stops its noonday whir! The wild bird hears; smote with the sound, As if by bullet brought to ground, On broken wing, dips, wheeling round! The hare, transfixed, with trembling lip