THE LAND WHERE I WAS BORN.

HAVE you ever been down to jaghori?
Where the trees are green and tall?
The days are long and the heavens are high,
but the people there are small.
There is no work there; it is always play;
the sun is sweet in the morn;
but a thousand dark things walk at night
in the land where I was born.

Have you ever been down to jaghori?
Where the birds made happy spring?
The parrots screamed from the honey-trees,
and the jays hopped chattering.
Strange were the ways of the water-birds
In the brown swamps, night and morn;
I knew the roads they had in the reeds
In the land where I was born.

Have you ever been down to jaghori?
It was full of smiling queens:
They had flaxen hair, they were white and fair,
but they never reached their teens.
Their shoes were small and their dreams were tall:
Wonderful frocks were worn;
but the queens all strayed from the place we played,
in the land where I was born.

I know you have been to jaghori.
Though I never saw you there;
I know you have loved all things I have loved,
Flowery, sweet, and fair.
Have you ever been jaghori?
I know you have been
Please till me also what you see
In the land where I was born.

BY AHMED