Versamelde gedigte

The camp fire

The fire has flickered down; a film of grey

Lies o'er its opal embers which but need

The bland caress of the night wind to breed

New flames its fulgent mastery to display.
Far off the lion, hunting for his prey,

[p. 493]

 

Proclaims his conquest, growling in his greed,

 

In tangled tracts of thorn and river weed

 

The haunt of shy black helmet shrikes by day.

 

Night, green, mysterious Night, whose glamour holds

 

Impenetrable secrets and the power

 

To stir men's minds, reigns sovereign over all;

 

Its dark, rich, calm serenity enfolds

 

My mundane being at this midnight hour,

 

And keeps my tired, time-saddened soul in thrall.

Jagger-biblioteek, Universiteit van Kaapstad