The Tropics in New York

Bananas ripe and green, and gingerroot;

Cocoa in pods and alligator pears,

And tangerines, and mangoes, and grapefruit;

Fit for the highest prize at parish fairs.

 

Set in the window bringing memories,

Of fruit trees laden by low-singing rills,

And dewy dawns, and mystical blue skies,

In benediction over nun-like hills.

 

My eyes grew dim, and I could no more gaze;

A wave of longing threw my body swept,

And hungry for the old, familiar ways;

I turned aside and bowed my head and wept.

 

 

-Claude McKay