Page:A Treasury of South African Poetry.djvu/88

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The breezes blithe of deep-voiced spring Whisper within thine ear sweet tales Of musing woods and laughing vales, Where brooklets babble, wild birds sing;

But pale the pleasure they impart, For lo, they sing of alien themes; Spring's subtle tremors, magic dreams, Ne'er come to gladden thy sad heart:

But barrenness for ever flings Around thy brows her pallid shroud, And silence holds thee like a cloud, And thou art loneliest of things!

Like to a soul that doth possess No kin in others, but each day It wears itself in grief away At its own utter loneliness!

. Art thou not weary, full of woe, Old sentinel, whose stony eyes Have watched the sleepless centuries Unhasting, silent come and go?

Thou seest still from year to year The strange transitions of the earth, Grave Autumn's prime, and Springtide's birth, Repletive Summer, Winter bare;