Page:A Treasury of South African Poetry.djvu/205

 "To-morrow's setting sun must find
 * Us resting far from here;

We can no more at eventide
 * Let fall the tribute tear

"Upon the mound where rests the dust
 * Of her who you me gave;

Ah! when we're gone, the white man's plough
 * Will tear your mother's grave!"

"My father, say not so," she cried;
 * "The white man may be moved;

To-morrow let us go to him—
 * My pow'r 's not yet been proved.

"Perchance he'll listen to my tale,
 * Perchance I'll move his heart,

Perchance he may call back the word
 * Which made us hence depart."

"My daughter, hope not thus; 'tis vain;
 * The white man's stern command

Cannot be changed; we must go hence,
 * And leave our fatherland!

"My arms are gone! I must obey;
 * No safety more is here;

Too long we've fought! the strife is vain
 * Where victory's so dear!"

"My father, talk no more of war;
 * I know the white man's pow'r;

Love moves all hearts, let love be then
 * Our refuge in this hour.