Pioneer
I scan the barrenness of arid plains;
I test them well. Mercurial long day
Follows deep night: I send my song away
On its remotely-answered flight. Heat stains
My skin and bakes my heart; I have no pains
To speak of, but report my health. May
People come to live - their children, play -
Upon this land where heavens send no rains?
I, vanguard sentinel who never leaves
But watches seasonless the arching suns,
Know naught of harvesting of sheaves;
Hard wealth men seek, from world of furnace breath,
So here I am. The data through me runs,
Informing whether aught is here but death.
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