Page:A Treasury of South African Poetry.djvu/268

 With feet worn through, and wasted frame, We stagger along the road; Arrived in the sharp and stony street, We stand, while the men off load.

'Mid the rush of eager men, As they hurry along the street, We stand, and wonder what it means, And bemoan our cruel fate.

All day without water or food We pant in the blazing heat, And visions dim of the shady wood And river's cool retreat

Pass through our weary hearts, Till the evening sun goes down,— When the startling shot of the terrible thong Hurries us out of the town.

"Weary, and wounded, and worn," We stagger in front of the load, And we stupidly wonder if men have hearts, Or is there indeed a God?

A God, all wise and good, Who lists to His creature's cry? 'Tis hard to be understood; To be born, and suffer, and die. F. F.