Before the Red Sea flood
Beneath a cornhusk dawn
We bid the Elkhorn run
To a locomotive psalm
Until the pale horse comes
Along a rail withdrawn
Clanging loudward on
Clanging loudward on

We bid the Elkhorn run
Until the red cow comes
I was a steadfast son
With thoughts and hooves divided
And on the arid ground
Of thirsty Zion’s hill
Cold waters tumbled down
Where the staff of Moses fell

What Pharaoh spell
What picture holds us now?

Over the land we knew
Before the frog withdrew
In the fragrant pomegranate blooms
Where the tender locust flew
Behind the milk-tank cars
Behind the milk-white tombs
We passed the North Platte yard
On silver tracks in gloom
Out past the black sheep herds
Out to the outcast birds
In the rust of open wagons
Saw the Blessed Virgin’s form

We watched the green figs fall
From the Nebraska sky
How much were even passive things
Responsive to our watchful eye

And let there be no doubt:
So many pictures hold us

In the wells of livestock vans
With shells and sidewalk sand
Behold the snake of brass
Behold a golden calf