We’ve _tête-à-têted_ here and there
Whence all the breezes fan,
From Cuba clear to Tokio
And back to Hindustan.
We’ve journeyed out of Agra
To see the Taj Mahal
Rise mystic white in the moonlit night
Above the Jumna wall.
Along the plains of Java
We shook you by the hand,
And watched among Tosari’s hills
The lace Tjemaras stand:
Or Aden’s great cathedral rocks--
High--majestic--bare--
Or Karnak’s columns rising sheer
Through the clear Egyptian air.
We’ve laughed with you in Poeroek Tjahoe,[A]
In the heart of Borneo,
Ere we hit the trail to northward
Where the lesser rivers flow:
Where the angry Moeroeng cuts the hills
And the endless jungles rise,
And the Dyak kampongs nestle ’neath
The speckless, fleckless skies.
By the myriad ship-lights stretching through
The Roads of Singapore,
By the crooked, winding, white-walled streets
Of burning Bangalore:
By the mighty, gilded Shwe Dagon
Aglitter above the trees,
Where the tiny ti bells tinkle
In the sough of the sunset breeze:
From where the terrace-sculptured gates
Of the great Sri Rangam rise,
To Bangkok’s triple temple roofs,
Red-gold against the skies:
By crowded, sewerless Canton--
By Hong Kong’s towering lights--
By the gorgeous Rajputana stars
That blazon the blue-black nights:
We’ve met you, Men of the Millionth Mark--
Outposters--far--alone--
Beyond the glut of the cities’ rut,
And we claim you for our own.
(Beyond the glut of the cities’ rut
And the roar of the rolling cart,
Beyond the blind of the stifled mind
And the hawking, haggling mart.)
And some of you were “rotters”--
And some were “18 fine”--
But on the whole--we saw your soul--
Oh outbound kin of mine.
_So stand we pledged and hand in hand_
_By every ocean, gulf and land,_
_Stout hearts and humble knees:_
_Oh men of the Outer Reaches--_
_Oh men of the palm-lined beaches--_
_Oh men where the ice-pack bleaches--_
_Oh Brethren o’ the far-flung seas._
[A] Pronounced Poorook Jow.