Perhaps he can't punctuate.

I don't understand quite what the poetry means, but maybe you will.

Anyway, you'll see that it's a real desert piece.
Here it is: "THE DESERT ROAD "In the sands I lived in a hut of palm, There was never a garden to see; There was never a path through the desert calm, Nor a way through its storms for me.
"Tenant was I of a lone domain; The far pale caravans wound To the rim of the sky, and vanished again; My call in the waste was drowned.
"The vultures came and hovered and fled; And once there stole to my door A white gazelle, but its eyes were dread With the hurt of the wounds it bore.
"It passed in the dusk with a foot of fear, And the white cold mists rolled in; "And my heart was the heart of a stricken deer, Of a soul in the snare of sin.
"My days they withered like rootless things, And the sands rolled on, rolled wide; Like a pelican I, with broken wings, Like a drifting barque on the tide.
"But at last, in the light of a rose-red day, In the windless glow of the morn, From over the hills and from far away, You came--ah, the joy of the morn! "And wherever your footsteps fell, there crept A path--it was fair and wide: A desert road which no sands have swept, Where never a hope has died.
"I followed you forth, and your beauty held My heart like an ancient song; By that desert road to the blossoming plains I came-and the way was long! "So I set my course by the light of your eyes; I care not what fate may send; On the road I tread shine the love-starred skies-- The road with never an end." Not many men can do things like that, and the other things, too, that he does.

Perhaps he will win through, by himself, but is it fair to have him run the risk?
If he ever did you a good turn, as you once said to me he did, won't you help him now?
You are on the inside of political things, and if you make up your mind to help, nothing will stop you--that was your grandmother's way.

He ought to get his backing pretty soon, or it won't be any good....