"The sun shrivels up the sparse alkali flats,
parched herds of grasshoppers ar grazing about -
not a new blade in all the stubble, not a handbreadth of
green in all the board meadows. A dozen labourers..."
"The lines of this poem were evoked by the sight of the "alkali flats", which are dry by the summer, and they made me realise what this book, which we recommend to you with all our hearts, is about."