Adventure Magazine Cover, December 18, 1919 — page 44: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

30 Adventure THE DESERT-BORN By HELEN H. PIERCE M INE is the solitude of desert spaces, 4 Unmarred, untainted, gloriously free; The luring loneliness of silent places— All this is as the breath of life to me! Grant to the weak the peace of gentle weather, A life lapped round with idleness and ease; But oh! For me the creak of saddle leather, The pant of a spend horse against my knees. No splendor like the morning radiance blending Opal and rose in iridescent flame, The fragrant smoke of camp-fire high ascending _ As incense to the One All-Holy Name. I tove to thread forgotten coulees, lying Hot in the noon-day beat of desert sun, Thrill to the rattler’s death-drum, and replying, The swift, reverberant echo of my gun. The desert stars swing comradely around me— No other jewels half so wonder-bright— The desert-darkness, mother-wise, hath wound me Safe in her velvet mantle all the night. I want no other home, no other lover, No other comforting than my content, No kiss but the caressing winds that hover, No roof but the wide-arching firmament. None but the desert-born may know the luring In the wild pungency of trampled sage— None but the strong, the free-souled, the enduring Taste of the desert’s glorious heritage! EOI 100 (eo)