Classic Poem

The memory haunts me, when in cheerful ease
I sip thy sweetness, of a land of balm,
Radiant with bowers and labyrinths of palm,
Far in the warm heart of the Celebes!

The golden orange crowns the swaying trees,
In fertile vales there dwells perpetual calm,
Where the swart hunter, free from any qualm,
Gazes on sultry leagues of dazzling seas.

And then strange fancy leads my spirit back
Unto the toil and tumult of a town,
Noisy with traffic and industrious feet.
I see the cheerless silhouette, dull and black,
Of Rotterdam's high minster of renown,
Or Zaandam's markets lashed by wintry sleet!