Page:A Treasury of South African Poetry.djvu/166

 OLD ST. THOMAS' CHURCHYARD, DURBAN. English willow for our English dead:
 * The soft flamboyant shades their southern sleep.

On the spare grass syringa blooms are shed,
 * And lithe virginias creep

Over the stones where the swift lizards tread.
 * The rose is here, but with a faint perfume;
 * And, standing 'thwart the hedge, the kaffir-boom

Holds in mid-air its tufts of poppy red.

Worship has gone, but Peace has never left
 * The church deserted, with the toppling tower

And the dead creeper—Time can make no theft
 * Of her unpassing hour,

For Time in this retreat seems wing-bereft.
 * The world is all apart—far, far away
 * The eyes scarce catch the shapes of Bluff and Bay,

Where tree and gable leave an opening cleft.

Slowly the great gate opens, as 'twere loth
 * To yield its sombre pathways to our tread.

Slowly we saunter, reading thro' thick growth
 * The records of the dead.

The spirit of the place demands an oath
 * Of silence, and of endless quietness.
 * Yet many here on whom the lilies press

Had little time for reverie or sloth.