The Ivory Trail

Green, ah greener than emeralds are, tree-tops beckon the dhows to land, White, oh whiter than diamonds are, blue waves burst on the amber sand, And nothing is fairer than Zanzibar from the Isles o’ the West to the Marquesand.

I was old when the world was wild with youth. (All love was lawless then!) Since ‘Venture’s birth from ends of earth I ha’ called the sons of men, And their women have wept the ages out In travail sore to know What lure of opiate art can leach Along bare seas from reef to beach Until from port and river reach The fever’d captains go.

Red, oh redder than red lips are my flowers that nod in the blazing noon, Blue, oh bluer than maidens’ eyes are the breasts o’ my waves in the young monsoon, And there are cloves to smell, and musk, and lemon trees, and cinnamon.