Page:A Treasury of South African Poetry.djvu/234

 THE VOICE. is a wailing voice which cries
 * For ever from the ocean,

When the great angry waves arise, In long low lines against the skies,
 * And, with a sullen motion,

Dash themselves against the rocks, Raising a cloud of foam, which mocks
 * Their sullenness—then falling, dies.

Or when the moon, with radiant face,
 * Shines on the sea's broad breast,

And woos her with such tender grace, That, yielding to the soft embrace,
 * She sinks entranced to rest;

And a soft sleep steals over all, Unbroken, save by the sea-gull's call,
 * As he seeks his watery nest.

Out, out afar he wheels his flight,
 * Where the sky and waters meet,

Till, like a speck in the waning light, Fading away he is lost to sight,
 * 'Mid shadows dim and fleet;

While from the ocean, calm and deep, A cool soft mist doth slowly creep,
 * And shrouds the mountain's feet.