Page:A Treasury of South African Poetry.djvu/138

 Lo! there—an open grave! and heads are bare, And bent; and bosoms heave, and tears are falling From youthful womanhood,—from hoary age. Men weep, as slowly through the reverent throng Is borne what hides from view a shrivelled form, Wasted and featureless: yet round that bier Stand silently the great of many lands. Britain's high born stand there; and kings of men Of other realms stand there by envoy. There The sons of science gather, and the friends Of light and liberty. The Churches' messengers Look on in sadness there; and a vast throng, Crowding around, sigh forth a nation's sympathy. Tokens of reverent love-azalea wreaths, Laurel and myrtle, with fair flowers entwined, Bright immortelles, branches of Afric's palm— (Symbol of triumph e'en in death) are there, And, honour to the honoured!—Britain's Queen Sign of "respect and admiration" sends,— Her own, and royal daughter's funeral gifts To deck the bier.

And who is it that thus Draws to himself in death the eyes of nations? Is it some warrior leader, who has died In the proud hour of victory, and, wept By whole people's tears, lies down to rest? —Or is it one who, in a nation's peril, Has earned a nation's gratitude by wise And warning counsels in her council halls? —Is it a Prince has died? That royalty Should sigh her grief, and nobles weep around?