Page:A Treasury of South African Poetry.djvu/39

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W. E. HUNTER.
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How they revel, toy and tarry,
Falter with the bliss they carry!
Tremble, with excess of gladness,
On the narrow brink of sadness!
Till the serenade appears
But to bubble up through tears;
And the music's tender stress
Yields again to silentness:
And the artful bird capricious,
In a reverie delicious,
Mute upon the star-lit spray,
Meditates his winsome lay:
Or, perchance, 'twere sooth to say,
He pauses to rejoice,
And marvel at his matchless voice,
And so awhile forgets to sing
For his own music listening:
And hence the hush, while leaf and wing,
Shadow, starlight, everything,
In this mystical recess
Amid the hills is motionless,
Lest the timid creature hear,
Rise and vanish into air;
Nor thereafter dare nor deign,
Here to fold his wings again.


Ah, their vigil is not vain!
Hark ! the music falls like rain,
When in heaven's bright abyss,
One lone cloud and no wind is.
So waywardly, so tenderly,
Note by note the melody

On th' absorbing silence falls
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