Versamelde gedigte

[p. 427]

The Zombie

His face was like a bleached bone

The desert wind unsands,

And cold and white, like marble stone,

Were both his mummied hands.

His eyes were clouded like the eyes

Of fish no longer fresh;

No glint of anger or surprise

Within their depths did flash.

Heedless like a noctambulant

He passed along his way,

And little children as he went

Ran crying in from play.

The women crossed themselves and held

Their eyes upon the ground,

Until his passing had dispelled

The fear his presence found.

And old men, very close to death,

But still afraid to die,

Gabbled a spell beneath their breath,

Until he had passed by.

Only the stranger, unaware

Of evil's awful might,

Looked at him with a curious stare,

And wondered at the sight,

And asked a native lad who ran

Some twilight tryst to keep,

‘What is that dreadful-looking man

Who walks as if asleep?’

With startled glance the home-born youth

Spoke with averted head,

As if he feared to tell the truth,

‘A Zombie, sir,’ he said.

I went into a crowded hall,

And heard an old man speak

Of ending wars, ‘which, after all,

Were hopeless for the weak.’

With an old man's garrulity

He glibly drooled along.

The future, so he said, would be

Made peaceful by the strong.

[p. 428]

 

All little nations would obey

 

The greater ones above.

 

The greater ones would have their say,

 

And rule the world by love.

 

 

 

I whispered to my neighbour man

 

(Who seemed to pray or weep),

 

‘What is this awful charlatan

 

Who talks as if asleep?’

 

 

 

Tear-stained bi-focals fixed my eyes;

 

He slowly shook his head,

 

And whispered back in mild surprise,

 

‘A Statesman, sir,’ he said.