Longing For Africa

I must go back to Africa,
Back to my wild and sunny shores
from where vermillion rays at noon tide glares
Like clothes of kente from Boloka

We fled the town in fright one night,
with tears; our shoes the worse for wear.
Hunger and want increased our fears
wounds bled with no health-care in sight,

Back I now come to farms long left;
veldt where few hungry cattle graze;
A hot dry land burnt bare of maize
though village boys are strong and deft.

To Africa I must go back
my thatch hut rots, the hearth is cold;
there men dig up my gems and gold;
sweet Africa they seek to sack.

Up winding foot paths I must tread
Through lush green groves, down muddy roads
Till night let out her choir of toads
And ghastly growls of things once feared

Life there is slow, still we must go
to fix our plows and tend our groves,
and share those things for which we strove.
Back home I hear the trade wind blows

Come down O child of Africa
Come back with others down-ward bound.
To Africa! This call resounds
It’s time to leave America.