Can you see a fence
Builded of growing ocotillas.
Each post top a flaming flower
The whole a bower,
Blooming beside the lonely "waterhole",
Where in the glaring noonday heat,
Sits a dirty old man.
Smoking, selling pop and gas,
And dreaming of desert gold and flower fences.
Edited by May William Ward
(New York: Henry Harrison. 1935)