Classic Poem

I

Dzua the Sun is dead,
Mwoto the Flame burns low,
The shadows come and go,
And the rats fight overhead
And shriek in the soot-hung thatch â?¦

The Hands are on the latch â?¦
Ha! I am not alone â?¦
Outside the Dead are free —
They squeak, the Dead; and the Dead wait for me;
They whisper through the cracks, their sly hands scratch
The daga; and they moan!

Let them remain,
And I will join them soon.
Without, they have the moon;
Without, they have the rain —
Ha! But they hate the rain!
(I hate it too;) — more that my days are few —
Ha! When my day is done
I shall not see the sun
Again . . . .

II

My calabash — the Pipe.
My Pipe! Where is my pipe of clay?
Magondo! Have they stol'n â?¦?
'Tis here behind the ngoma — nay â?¦
'Tis gone! —
Nephew, thy time is ripe —
Goro, thou dog! thy sun has shone
And has sunk down for ever from the sky
If thou hast hidden't away!
My stricken limbs are swoll'n
With long disease, but, Nephew, thou shalt die
If thou hast stol'n â?¦ Ha! it is here —
My Pipe! My Child — thou knowest not Age, nor Fear. . . .

The kraal, night-hidden, sleeps;
The hill-rain weeps
Along the sodden slopes. But, Pipe, we know
Dry paths beyond the Distance â?¦ Let us go
As we have gone before.
The ghost-hands cannot hold us any more â?¦
We go, Imbainje, thou and I — but hark!
How loud they chatter in the seething dark . . . .

Horwe! Horwe! Horwe! Ha, the Weed
Catches the windpipe, wakes the cough, but stirs
The blood within the vein, and blurs
The Hunger and the Need.

And here â?¦ Be still, thou Goat; art thou afraid of me?
Dost fear? Saw'st thou Kaseka die â?¦?
I slew her swiftly â?¦ as I may slay thee
Unless thou stopp'st thy cry!
W'na baa inyi, Goat?
Thy eyes stare wide —
Beware! Hokoyo! for I watch thy throat —
Remember how she died!

III

Mad? Am I mad?
I care not; but I see
Askew.
The light is bad. —
Goro, the dog, my nephew,
He —
Chimbadi! I would slay him if I knew . . . .

Kaseka, my wife, she knew â?¦
But the light of my life is dead. —
Dzua the Sun is dead;
Mwoto the Flame sinks low;
The shadows stagger and go;
And the rats shriek overhead —
Ha! I am drunk with smoke
Ha! I have smash'd the Pipe.

Nephew, thy time is ripe
To deal thy waited stroke —
To sheath thy hungry knife.
Kaseka, I hear thee call —
There with the ghosts by the wall â?¦
Kaseka! My wife â?¦
Goro, the dog, howls out in the rain,
But I hold thee, wife, in my arms again . . . .