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4
PERCIVAL GIBBON.
THE VELDT.
Cast the window wider, sonny,
Let me see the veldt,
Rolling grandly to the sunset,
Where the mountains melt,
With the sharp horizon round it,
Like a silver belt.
Years and years I've trekked across it,
Ridden back and fore,
Till the silence and the glamour
Ruled me to the core;
No man ever knew it better,
None could love it more.
There's a balm for crippled spirits
In the open view,
Running from your very footsteps
Out into the blue;
Like a wagon-track to heaven,
Straight 'twixt God and you.
There's a magic, soul-compelling,
In the boundless space,
And it grows upon you, sonny,
Like a woman's face—
Passionate and pale and tender,
With a marble grace.
