The Dyak chief, and other verses

by Erwin Clarkson Garrett

Just the Adjusting Hour,
Pondering very slow,
And you lay the firm foundations
And you pray that they will grow—

Tall and strong and splendid—
That they who run may see,
What the Adjusting Hour
Has given to you and me.

THE OUTPOSTERS

We’ve tête-à-têted here and there
Whence all the breezes fan,
From Cuba clear to Tokio
And back to Hindustan.

We’ve journeyed out of Agra
To see the Taj Mahal
Rise mystic white in the moonlit night
Above the Jumna wall.

Along the plains of Java
We shook you by the hand,
And watched among Tosari’s hills
The lace Tjemaras stand:

Or Aden’s great cathedral rocks—
High—majestic—bare—
Or Karnak’s columns rising sheer
Through the clear Egyptian air.

We’ve laughed with you in Poeroek Tjahoe,[A]
In the heart of Borneo,
Ere we hit the trail to northward
Where the lesser rivers flow:

Where the angry Moeroeng cuts the hills
And the endless jungles rise,
And the Dyak kampongs nestle ’neath
The speckless, fleckless skies.