Page:A Treasury of South African Poetry.djvu/127

Rh

I my love a resting bower
 * Within a glade where forest trees

Stretched o'er the sward their budding boughs,
 * That chafed and mingled in the breeze.

And wild wood flowers, strange and bright,
 * Devised in nature's mystic mood,

Around the arbour trellis twined,
 * And quaintly draped the sombre wood.

Rich butterflies in ceaseless dance
 * Threaded the blossom-bordered gloom,

And singing bees in summer-time
 * Rifled each honey-laden bloom.

From here we'd see the timid dawn
 * Glance shyly from the eastern sky;

Or, in the west, the cloud-built pyre
 * Flame with the morrow's prophecy.

And oft we'd sit in sultry noons,
 * When throbbing nature sank to sleep,

And read the lore in love-lit eyes,
 * Of secrets rare that lovers keep.

Strange living things that underground
 * In secret places keep their home,

And fangless serpents, void of hurt,
 * Would to her gentle presence come.