These words have haunted me since childhood school days. All I can remember is " wide through the landscape of his dreams the lordly Niger flowed, beneath the palm trees on the plains once more a king he strode.....untill he saw the roofs of the caffer huts, and the ocean rose to view. I would love to know who the poet was.
H. W. Longfellow
Beside the ungathered rice he lay,
His sickle in his hand;
His breast was bare, his matted hair
Was buried in the sand.
Again, in the mist and shadow of
He saw his Native Land.
Wide through the landscape of his
The lordly Niger flowed;
Beneath the palm-trees on the plain
Once more a king he strode,
And heard the tinkling caravans
Descend the mountain-road.
He saw once more his dark-eyed,
Among her children stand;
They clasped his neck, they kissed
They held him by the hand!--
A tear burst from the sleeper's lids
And fell into the sand.
And then at furious speed he rode
Along the Niger's bank;
His bridle-reins were golden chains,
And, with a martial clank,
At each leap he could feel his scab
bard of steel
Smiting his stallion's flank.
Before him, like a blood-red flag,
The bright-flamingoes flew;
From morn till night he followed
O'er plains where the tamarind
Till he saw the roofs of Caffre huts,
And the ocean rose to view.
At night he heard the lion roar,
And the hyena scream,
And the river-horse, as he crushed
Beside some hidden stream;
And it passed, like a glorious roll of
Through the triumph of his
The forests, with their myriad
Shouted of liberty;
And the Blast of the Desert cried
With a voice so wild and free,
That he started in his sleep and
At their tempestuous gleed.
He did not feel the driver's whip,
Nor the burning heat of day;
For Death had illumined the Land
And his lifeless body lay
A worn out fetter, that the soul
Had broken and thrown away!
I am indebted JP, amazing, thanks for that.