Page:A Treasury of South African Poetry.djvu/87

 THE HOGSBACK PEAK.

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monarch, rough and rude, Rising above thy vassal hills, Far from the music of the rills, The very son of Solitude!

Far, far above the 'wildering ways Where flow the chequered streams of life, In discords harsh of stress and strife, Or suave in song of peace and praise.

No verdure decks thy rocky head, No flowers bloom around thy crest— Thou'rt bare as the deserted nest Of birds that o'er the seas have fled.

Only the golden buds of morn, The roses of retreating eve, And lily-mists serenely weave Gay garlands round thy brows forlorn.

And when the weary world doth rest, In shelt'ring night's secure embrace, The moonbeams kiss thy mournful face, The still stars sparkle round thy crest.

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