Gardeners of Eden / George Dance
George Dance
In Africa, gazelles roam the savannah
With various and sundry other beasts:
Hyenas, lions, zebras cross the plain.
You, too, can fly first-class to ogle nature
There in the raw, to see life live and die
In pristine habitat, unspoiled by man.
Adjust the focus, though, and there is man
In tiny huts that dot the wide savannah;
In starkest poverty they live and die
Half-starving, like the other native beasts:
An early death to keep the balance of nature,
Another pile of bones upon the plain.
One backward look’s enough to make it plain
That such was once the lot of every man,
A brute existence at the grace of nature:
Starvation stalked in forest and savannah,
Diseases, dangers lurking both from beasts
And other men – they learned to kill or die.
Today we do much more than live and die
Like that. Look forward now: Is it not plain
We can be something more than merely beasts,
That so much lies ahead for life, for man,
For us; why not for men of the savannah?
Must they be simply set aside for nature?
It seems they must; for here we all love nature,
In Africa at least. “Let kaffir die”
Could be the motto of our Save Savannah
Groups that strive to save that precious plain
And never give a single thought to man.
Are men somehow less valuable than beasts?
If one loves humans, how can one love beasts?
To survive, a man must conquer nature –
The only other choice, enslave a man
And live a parasite (of course he’ll die
But there’ll be others) – that at least is plain.
So, should you ever visit the savannah,
Do ask to see the beasts, to see them die
In glorious nature, death upon the plain:
The bones of man upon the vast savannah.
---
George Dance
George Dance
In Africa, gazelles roam the savannah
With various and sundry other beasts:
Hyenas, lions, zebras cross the plain.
You, too, can fly first-class to ogle nature
There in the raw, to see life live and die
In pristine habitat, unspoiled by men.
Adjust the focus, though, and there are men
In tiny huts that dot the wide savannah;
In starkest poverty they live and die
Half-starving, like the other native beasts:
An early death to keep the balance of nature,
Another pile of bones upon the plain.
One backward look’s enough to make it plain
That such was once the fortune of all men,
A brute existence at the grace of nature.
Starvation stalked in forest and savannah,
Diseases, dangers lurking both from beasts
And men themselves (they learned to kill or die).
Today we do much more than live and die
Like that. Look forward now: Is it not plain
We can be something more than merely beasts,
That so much lies ahead for life, for men,
For us; why not for men of the savannah?
Must they be simply set aside for nature?
It seems they must; for here we all love nature,
In Africa at least. “Let kaffir die”
Could be the motto of our Save Savannah
Groups that strive to save that precious plain
And never give a single thought to men.
Are we somehow less valuable than beasts?
If one loved humans, how could one love beasts?
To survive, a man must conquer nature –
The only other choice, enslaving men
To live a parasite (of course they’ll die
But there’ll be others) – that at least is plain.
So, should you ever visit the savannah,
Do ask to see the beasts, to see them die
In glorious nature, death upon the plain:
The bones of men upon the vast savannah.
---
George Dance