THE RETURN PATH.
Then I studied a week to gain knowledge,
And waded through volumes of stuff,
And I found that the only requirements
Were cunning and blarney and bluff.
And these I had brought from the jungle—
Inherited straight from my race—
With a gift for political music
And a truly political face.
Thus feeling at home in my labors,
My plan was successful, of course,
And when they came round with appointments
They gave me a job on "the force."
And such was my skill as a roundsman,
And talent in keeping the peace,
That I rose in a year to be Captain,
And then to be Chief of Police!
And then, as my years were advancing,
So great was their honor and trust,
That they twined me a chaplet of laurel
And sculptured in marble my bust.
Yet often I dreamed of the jungle—
Its song and the rustle of wing—
And sometimes still talked in my slumber
With Tusky, our elephant king.
When, lo, my political party,
That now was in power and supreme,
Conferred a most noble appointment
That realized all of my dream.
For they made me their African envoy,
And soon I went sailing again,
To meet my old playmates and tell them
The ways and the customs of men.
To calm the dusk native, and gather
My people in sun-haunted nooks
To tell them my story, and teach them
The wisdom that cometh of books;
The words and the ways of their fathers,
And deliver my race from its ban,
For man did not spring from the monkey,
But monkey descended from man!
