L'ENVOI
To My Brethren in Malaya
The grim Recording Angel turns the pages of the Book,
And the days are thrust behind us past recall—
All the sorrows that we tasted, all the pleasure that we took
In that life we shared together, Brothers all!
But to-day the forest whispers and to-day the ungkas whoop,
Where the big, slow river lumbers down to meet the sun-lit sea,
And the village drones and drowses while the palm-fronds lift or droop,
For the old life glideth onward still—with ne'er a place for me.
In the hut and in the palace, in the sun-fleck'd forest glade,
Where the vast trees crowding stagger 'neath their load of fern and vine,
In that world of untouched Nature, 'mid the marvels God hath made,
You are living on in listlessness the life that once was mine.
Hark! I eatch the thud of tom-toms, and the drone of old-world song,
The sleepy hum of insects, and the rush of startled beast—
And I lack the words to tell you, O my Brothers, how I long
For the glory and the glamour and the wonder of the East.
