Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE EXILE, by BERTON BRALEY



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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE EXILE, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: I'm sick of the mongol and tartar
Last Line: Oh, lord, but I want to go home!
Subject(s): Homesickness


I'm sick of the Mongol and Tartar
I'm sick of the Jap and Malay,
And far-away spots on the chart are
No place for yours truly to stay.
I've had enough undersized chicken
And milk that comes out of a can;
The East is no region to stick in
For this one particular man.

I'm weary of curry and rice all
Commingled with highly spiced dope,
I'm weary of bathing with Lysol
And washing with carbolic soap.
I'm tired of itch, skin diseases,
Mosquitoes and vermin and flies;
I'm fed up on tropical breezes
And sunshine that dazzles my eyes.

Oh, Lord, for a wind with a tingle,
An atmosphere zestful and keen,
Oh, Lord, once again just to mingle
With crowds that are white folks—and Clean.
To eat without fear of infection,
To sleep without using a net,
And throw away all my collection
Of Iodine, Quinine, et cet.

To know all the noise and the clamor
The hurry and fret of the West
I'd trade all the Orient Glamour
That damned lying poets suggest.
They sing of the East as enthralling
(And that's why I started to roam)
But—I hear the Occident calling—
Oh, Lord, but I want to go home!





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