Poetry and Sleep

Poems from South Africa

Published in a South Africa in an anthology 1910

Lance Fallaw

The Spirit of Hidden Places

OVER the mountain's shoulder, round the unweathered
                       cape,
In lands beyond the sky-line, there hides a nameless
             shape,—
Whether of fiend or goddess no mortal well may know ;
But when she speaks—with flushing cheeks, they one
                       by one must go.
To men in far old cities, scanning the curious chart,
Her voice would sound at midnight, like music in the
        heart;
Across the wrinkled parchment a glory seemed to fall,
And pageants pass like shapes in glass along the pic-
                       tured wall.
She led the sails of Lisbon beyond the Afric shore,
Winning a world of wonders by seas unknown before.
She watched the sturdy captains of Holland's India
 fleet
Planting their post on that grim coast where the two
                      oceans meet.
Yea, and in earlier ages, what ghostly race were they
Who left the eastward waters to tread the inland way ?
Who bore the gold of Ophir and built the tower of
                      stone—
But left no sign save empty mine, and rampart over-
               thrown.
But others find their footsteps, and strike the trail
         anew.
How fared the burghers onward across the wild Karoo !
And still, with hand at bridle and eyes that search the
         wind,
With strain and stress the white men press that mocking
         sprite to find.
We seek her by the valley,—she moves upon the height;
The rainbow stands athwart us to blind her from our
         sight;
Along the sea-bound bastion her steps are hid in spray,
And though we dream,—with morning gleam the lustre
         dies away.
Yet sometimes for a moment men think to feel her nigh;
When first the lost Moon Mountain unveils to Stanley's
         eye;
Or when the Great White Wanderer beheld Zambesi leap
With earthquake-stroke and sounding smoke down the
         stupendous steep.
And then again we lose her, for lack of wizard skill,
Only the message liveth that tells us, Further still!
Yet could we come upon her, and seize, and hold her
         fast,
The onward track  would something lack of its old
         magic past.
No secret on the ridges, no whisper in the air,
No sense of paths untrodden, no shadow anywhere;
Earth robbed of half her glamour, and ocean void of
         awe—
The-proud pursuit that brings not fruit is man's eternal

law.

Day and Night Up-Country

O'ER the unshaded veldt
The ruthless sun
Pauses, as though he felt
     His course half run.

The noontide world stands still
And gasps for air;
Lifts every breathless hill
A forehead bare.

Along the quivering ground
The heat-haze hangs,
Casting a mirage round
The aloe fangs.

Down by the dam, knee deep,
A brooding band,
Like statues seen in sleep
The cattle stand.

And stretched beside them lies
Their Kaffir herd,
Watching with narrowed eyes
The weaver bird.

In the hot glare, how near
The distance seems!
The league-long hills show clear
Through all our dreams.

Hills in whose giant tower
Soft darkness hides,
And whence at evening’s hour
Her shadow glides.

Blest moment! quickly come—
Thy Breeze we know,
Waking the lips grown dumb,
The pulses slow.

Come with thy starry sky,
A boundless deep;
Under thy quiet eye
We would not sleep,

But watch the lonely land
Her breast unfold,
When night’s grey colours stand
Athwart the gold;

See the long mountains bend,
And take new shape;
Strange shadows to descend,
And mists to drape.

Till morning’s lighter air
Blows up from far,—
Day, thou art wondrous fair
By sun or by star!

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