From - Ezemony: Part Iii

Grow old along with me: The best is yet to be! 1 A reed in hand, she comes Harping a decree of the ancients Weeping for joy of the prospects Of our ancestral sceptres: Swords forged for peace and liberty! 2 Measure this peace of peoples Sing in the heights of future wars The shrubs shrug for the cedars To be cut in the contempt of peace Prowl in the secrets of sad glories! 3 Freedom is the very word, A word to be heard in prophesies! Is she deceiving the celebrate folks? In markets: mere fools, sad Tho’ the gods demand the sacrifices! 4 The voices were heard Far from the Niger’s shores; O the lagoons quartered the talks The discourse that could Determine the flow of Niger’s tears! 5 A white angel blew the trumpet Humming a foreign dance-style A native dancer lept into the sky Calling his neighbours to the stake Of powers, of shy cry and mourning!