The Sun Rises in the Western Sphere

The sun rises in the western sphere,
And they all say the moon reigns there,
where the savage danced their way so dear
for they knew not sunset was near.

Some said the sun had brought the day,
yet for the savage, it was the moon;
it cast an eclipse at highest noon,
and they knew not the day was done.

Oh savage! Oh brute! Not of my dream!
cried she –the mistress from the west--
Helpless creatures, chained and lost!
lamented he back home –with a beam!

And they toiled, and toiled, not in vain,
for when the savage lay in delirium,
they cried ‘saved from death and doom!’
as quietly lay buried the savage heirloom!

A century has now passed,
the savage still deemed savage and in delusion;
For they have lost both their heads and illusion,
and trot the path of borrowed emotion!

Like a peacock, they try to sing;
Like a cuckoo, they try to dance;
Like a penguin, they try to fly;
Like the black crow, they try in vain.

For they forget their golden skin;
their tail the peacock’s tail,
their song the cuckoo's song,
though unique they were, like the penguin.

The day is falling and night will come,
the sun is gone and the moon will dawn,
yet the eclipse remains undone,
and the silver lining now is drawn!

Time elapses as you sleep, O savages,
for your hornbills lie taken hostage,
and your treasures rot beneath ruthless roots,
feeding charmless creepers without hue.