The tawny gold of Afric’s mind!”
J. G. Whittier.
I.
No mocking dream art thou of summer sun,
No fading shadow of the autumn’s gold;
Thy sunset stars their yellow light unfold
As some pale planet, when the day is done,
Giveth unfailing promise of the night
With its blessed hours of rest, its sparkling fields—
The glittering harvest that the darkness yields