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Freetown
Freetown, when God made thee, He made thy soil alone
Then threw the rich remainder in the sea.
Small inlets cradled He, in jet black stone.
Small bays of transient blue He lulled to sleep
Within jet rocks, filled from the Atlantic deep.
Then God let loose wee harbingers of song.
He scattered palms profusely o'er the ground
Then grew tall grasses, who in happy mirth
Reached up to kiss each palm tree that they found.
'This is my gem!' God whispered, 'this shall be
To me a jewel in blue turquoise set.' Thus spake the mouth of life's Eternity;
There, tranquilly lies Freetown, even yet.
Then God couched, lion-like, each mighty hill.
Silent, they keep their watch o'er Freetown still Silent.
— Gladys Casely-Hayford
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