Classic Poem

Here, where the gnona bask
But fifty yards away,
Under a wither'd palm
Where children never play —
Sacred to him alone,
This strip of baking land —
'Feti, the Witch Doctor,
Sits on the sand.

Here where the lizards climb
Over his shrunken limbs,
Kindly the great sun shines,
Kindly the great sun dims
Thoughts of the sombre past,
Thoughts of the horrors done;
'Feti, the Witch Doctor,
Nods in the sun.

High in the depthless blue
The circling vultures wheel,
Over the burning sand
Their silent shadows steal —
Over the aged man
Silent a shadow flits:
'Feti, the Witch Doctor,
Sleeps where he sits.

Utter the silence reigns,
The lazy lizards sleep,
Even the fishes doze
Down in the river's deep. —
Back to the wither'd palm, —
Chin on his sunken chest:
'Feti the Witch Doctor,
Dreams in his rest.

The magic bones have slipp'd
Out of the shrivell'd hand
Down to the magic bag
Propp'd in the shimmering sand;
But all his rest has gone,
And all forgetting fled:
'Feti, the Witch Doctor,
Speaks with the Dead.

Out of the writhing void,
Out of the creeping dark
There comes the form of her ...
That is he speaking — hark!
(Blacker the darkness grows,
Thicker the shadows lie,)
" Umfeti, Witch Doctor,
Jiwa must die."

Jiwa! His secret love,
Child of the mighty King!
Never! Imambo! ... but
Grimly the echoes ring,
Echo on echo wails
Mockingly monotone,
Mocking the Witch Doctor:
" King, it is done."

*****

Down to the river's brink
Go girls to fetch water,
Stop they at sight of him
The father of slaughter,
Stop with averted eyes,
Tremble and curtsey deep:
Tremble at sight of him
Sitting asleep.

He is the touch of death,
He is the fear'd of all,
Chiefs shake at sight of him,
And the warriors tall
Shuffle uneasily —
Fearing the eyes that pierce,
Fearing the Witch Doctor,
'Feti the fierce.

Not so in days gone by:
He was the healer then,
A friend to the ailing,
Belov'd of the children,
Father of fatherless,
And the hater of blood —
'Feti, the kind doctor,
'Feti, the good.

Sudden the silence breaks,
The waken'd lizards fly,
For, gasping with terror,
He awakes with a cry.
Ha! Have the spirits gone
Back to the sombre past
Leaving him living yet —
Yet to this last?

Over the burning sand,
Into the flaming white,
Shaking with hoary age,
Blinking before the light:
Mutt'ring with trembling lips,
And a blot on the day:
'Feti, the Witch Doctor,
Shuffles away.