Robert Louis Stevenson, 1850 - 1894

I should like to rise and go  
Where the golden apples grow;—  
Where below another sky  
Parrot islands anchored lie,  
And, watched by cockatoos and goats,
Lonely Crusoes building boats;—  
Where in sunshine reaching out  
Eastern cities, miles about,  
Are with mosque and minaret  
Among sandy gardens set,
And the rich goods from near and far  
Hang for sale in the bazaar,—  
Where the Great Wall round China goes,  
And on one side the desert blows,  
And with bell and voice and drum
Cities on the other hum;—  
Where are forests, hot as fire,  
Wide as England, tall as a spire,  
Full of apes and cocoa-nuts  
And the negro hunters’ huts;—
Where the knotty crocodile  
Lies and blinks in the Nile,  
And the red flamingo flies  
Hunting fish before his eyes;—  
Where in jungles, near and far,
Man-devouring tigers are,  
Lying close and giving ear  
Lest the hunt be drawing near,  
Or a comer-by be seen  
Swinging in a palanquin;—
Where among the desert sands  
Some deserted city stands,  
All its children, sweep and prince,  
Grown to manhood ages since,  
Not a foot in street or house,
Not a stir of child or mouse,  
And when kindly falls the night,  
In all the town no spark of light.  
There I’ll come when I’m a man  
With a camel caravan;
Light a fire in the gloom  
Of some dusty dining-room;  
See the pictures on the walls,  
Heroes, fights and festivals;  
And in a corner find the toys
Of the old Egyptian boys.

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