Page:A Treasury of South African Poetry.djvu/43

 With a low and inward voice To itself it doth rejoice; And the little sedge-birds sit In the reeds and hark to it; And from banks of mossy green, Flowers that love it droop and lean, As it lingers, winds, and wanders Under willow trees and alders— As it lingers, winds and flows 'Neath the lilies' driven snows, And a yellow dragon-fly Crosses it incessantly. —Ever may the streamlet be Clear as snow, untainted, free! And the vale,—may no men win it From the blackbird and the linnet, And the thrush that harbour in it!

Now the song-birds throng the bushes, And the water-birds the rushes; And thro' golden haze, the bee Darting, seeks her treasury With what nectar she could win From the tired flowers folding in; And the landscape all alight With rose and amber, depth and height, Burns beneath the fiery sky; And the radiant waters vie With heaven's splendour, where the sun, Now his western goal is won, Stands upon the molten wave, Magician-like, as if he gave