Page:Livingstone in Africa.djvu/121

Rh And all is silence—only a night air Rustles a palm, dreaming among the stars, From whose dim languorous long fronds they rise, Slow disentangling their celestial gleam. No human sound disturbs the solitude. Only a cry of some far florican; A chirping cricket in the herb afar, Or doleful forest-muffled living thing. Also I hear a distant ghostly voice Of plangent surf, alternately resounding And ceasing, on wild Tanganyika's shore. But some low thunder booms at intervals. Some say it is a surge, wandering in caves Unfathomable of a mighty mountain range, Far off to westward, nearer Liembâ. And some affirm a river under earth Rushes in yonder mountains of Kabongo, Breathing a strange low thunder on the wind England! my children! shall I see you once Again before I perish?—nay the end