Summary

M. L. Hope Indian and Other Tales

May, in an Eastern city, under burning skies,
Where many a weary exile for the dear old homeland cries;
Only those know the longing and pain
Who have spent long years on the sun-dried plain,
Whom days of toil under a pitiless sun
Have robbed of hope ere the race was won.
Those who each year are free to go
To the hills where the cooling breezes blow;
Where they see afar off the snow-clad peaks,
And nature in all her beauty speaks,
Of the weary striving know but the least,
For they see but the bright side of life in the East.
Source: Gutenberg

M. L. Hope Indian and Other Tales

Oft she had paused in her work, and in soft, caressing tone
Had soothed his plaintive crying, then gone back to her work alone,
And now, though tired and weary, and heavy her eyes with sleep,
She sat and nursed her baby with a mother love true and deep;
And when with a last little cry he turned in her arms and was still,
She knew that no more would his baby love the place in her hard life fill.
She was only a coolie mother, but her heart was heavy with pain,
For she knew that she never would clasp her child in her lonely arms again.
Source: Gutenberg

M. L. Hope Indian and Other Tales

So she sends him off flying with a howl of pain,
Then comes back and watches my efforts again;
Meanwhile, the rest of the tribe chatter and grin,
Until I think I am being turned outside in.
Oh, where are my dreams of peace and delight—
A peg and a smoke in the cool of the night?
Their noise and their chatter drive all peace away,
And make we feel minded those monkeys to slay
Source: Gutenberg

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