Page:A Treasury of South African Poetry.djvu/232

 And like the breeze that heralds morn
 * Hope through my heart anew doth sweep;

And to my quickened brain are borne
 * Strains sweet as music heard in sleep;

And, rich with endless recompense
 * For Life's poor, stinted gifts, I see

In vision through the veil of sense
 * The mystic Kingdom of May-be!

Herbert Tucker.