Page:A Treasury of South African Poetry.djvu/266

 To the murmur of thy sadness
 * Breathes my heart a kindred sigh;

Thy serenity of gladness
 * Knew I too in days gone by.

Yes, I love thee
 * With a strange intensity.

Salt thy brine, but teardrops salter
 * Flow to mingle with thy tide;

Burning thoughts from lips that falter,
 * As I wander by thy side,

I can tell thee;
 * Tell to thee, and none beside.

Art thou ruthless in destroying?
 * Time is yet a wilder sea;

With our hopes of youthhood toying,
 * Scatt'ring all with careless glee;

Till he leaves us
 * Wrecks of what we used to be.

Yet the flower of hope is blooming
 * On one rock above the spray,

All the distant East illuming,
 * Glows the promise of the day;

Time's dark ocean
 * Lit with an eternal ray.

"Thistle."