Empty Promises by john clare

we came upon a burnt out bush consumed from flames
lapped some morning dew from the deserted sand
bowed to the golden idols set out in the latter rains
then laid us down and wept for the promised land.

it wasn't how they said it would be
this desert full of scorpions and snakes
no land a flowing in milk and honey
this promised land no one wants to take.

suppose we shall turn back from this pain
return to the sand from which we came
at least they fed us three onions daily
who needs promises when hungering so greatly?

and so the empty ones soon were gone
with fires bright by the golden calves they did feast
yet the inner hunger lingered with a bitter groan
a kingdom within stirring in the belly of the beast.