Return of the Exile
I could have toyed around
With the floating currency
But I stared far away into Africa
And gravely sailed along
Thinking nothing at all
Of the world of solitude
Neither expecting a judgment
Nor indeed an attachment
I was without company
For the follies of mankind
And the poor relations of misery
Contrived to make her unkind:
‘Tis then I remembered
My first day in church
And the first sermon delivered
On the first human catch
I left nothing for history
But took gifts from the creator
To do service to my country
Lest neglected, she flounder
And lose her character at every word
That becomes her unseemly corpse
And my sojourn life’s topsy
True, the years that followed
The exile’s estrangement
Had plundered continents
Of his rare earlier wisdom
But as the streams flowed
Into the humane catchments
They bore native sentiment
Of love for his kingdom.
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