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138
LANCE FALLAW.
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.
