Page:A Treasury of South African Poetry.djvu/283

 From shadows passing, shadow-ward they went;
 * Nor gave me greeting, as I sat the while

Beside the looped-up doorway of my tent,
 * The tedium to beguile.

Only, it chanced, some tribesmen slouching by
 * Stiffened their backs, and turned to greet their king

With ceremonious clapping, and a cry
 * That made the red rocks ring.

I turned, and caught the pride that lit his face,
 * The sudden majesty that fired his brain—

Old and forgotten stories of his race
 * Glowed in his eyes again.

Then, silence—and his eyes were veiled anew—
 * Stiffly, he hobbled onward as he came.

"Faith!" said I, musing as he passed from view—
 * "Is kingship but a name?"

Cullen Gouldsbury.