Page:Livingstone in Africa.djvu/42

Anear a shimmer of slim aspen leaves,
Fluttering with sound of summer rain.
Ah! shall I never cease from journeying?
Urged ever onward by a restless ghost,
I may not fold my hands in pleasant sleep!

When I surmount some unfamiliar height,
Behold! an alien realm mysterious
Unroll'd in twilight! ghostly, drear, and wan;
Stain'd with what seem huge bombs of shatter'd iron,
Hurl'd from a weird infernal enginery.
And then I muse what eerie living things
Dwell far beyond among the mists of night—
Whether the wanderer may wander on
For ever in the waste, hearing no sound,
Save of his own footfall; or yonder dwell
Dark unimaginable human lives;
Wearing what uncouth forms, allied to some
Misshapen horrors of the forest wild—
Weird startling mockery of immortal man;
Shocking the soul with chill mistrustful fear,