 | Cosmo De' Medici |  |
145
TIMBUCTOO.
BY A NATIVE YOUTH.
Must I still live in Timbuctoo,
'Midst burning and shifting sands,
In a small straw hut, near a foul morass—
When the earth has sweet green lands?
'Midst burning and shifting sands,
In a small straw hut, near a foul morass—
When the earth has sweet green lands?
No breath of air, no song of a bird,
And scarcely the voice of man,
Save the water-carrier's wailful cry,
As he plods to fill calabash-can.
And scarcely the voice of man,
Save the water-carrier's wailful cry,
As he plods to fill calabash-can.
No fruit, no tree, no herbage, nor soil
Where a plant or root might grow,
Save the desert-shrub full of wounding thorns,
As the lips of the camels know.
Where a plant or root might grow,
Save the desert-shrub full of wounding thorns,
As the lips of the camels know.
The main street steams with the caravans,
Tir'd oxen and camels kneel down;
Box, package, and bales, are sold or exchang'd,—
And the train leaves our silent town.
Tir'd oxen and camels kneel down;
Box, package, and bales, are sold or exchang'd,—
And the train leaves our silent town.
The white man comes—and the white man goes—
But his looks and his words remain;
They show me my heart can put forth green leaves,
And my withering thoughts find rain.
But his looks and his words remain;
They show me my heart can put forth green leaves,
And my withering thoughts find rain.
146
Oh, why was I born in Timbuctoo,—
For now that I hear the roar
Of distant lands, with large acts in men's hands,
I can rest in my hut no more.
For now that I hear the roar
Of distant lands, with large acts in men's hands,
I can rest in my hut no more.
New life! hope! change!
Your echoes are in my brain;
Farewell to my thirsty home,
I must traverse the land and main!
Your echoes are in my brain;
Farewell to my thirsty home,
I must traverse the land and main!
And can I, then, leave thee, poor Timbuctoo,
Where I first beheld the sky?—
Where my own lov'd maid, now sleeps in the shade—
Where the bones of my parents lie!
Where I first beheld the sky?—
Where my own lov'd maid, now sleeps in the shade—
Where the bones of my parents lie!
| Cosmo De' Medici | |