A Treasury of South African Poetry and Verse/G. E. Bulger
KEISKAMMA.[1]
Where the gorgeous aloes grow,
There the hidden sources flow,
Cold and pure as molten snow,
Of the sweet Keiskamma.
Where the halcyon builds her nest
Neath the fern-tree's nodding crest,
Kissed by breezes from the west,
Flows the sweet Keiskamma.
Where the Amatolas[2] stand,
Guardians grim of Kaffirland,
Gurgling o'er its silver sand,
Flows the bright Keiskamma.
Winding 'mid mimosa glens,
Rocky banks and reedy fens,
By the tigers' hidden dens,
Glides the pure Keiskamma.
Where the furious torrents dash
O'er the rocks with deafening crash,
Ever onward, wild and rash,
Rolls the bright Keiskamma.
Where the willow branches bend,
And to earth their shadows lend,
Here its crystal waters wend—
Beautiful Keiskamma.
Through long valleys soft and green,
'Neath a cloudless heaven serene,
Glittering in its silver sheen,
Flows the clear Keiskamma.
Where the rugged rocks protrude,
And disturb its placid mood,
'Neath the shadowy yellow-wood,
Breaks the pure Keiskamma.
Where the river-horses splash,
And the foaming breakers dash
'Gainst the rocks with mighty crash,
Sweeps the bright Keiskamma.
Here, though sinking fast away,
For its waters may not stay,
Lovely as throughout its way
Is the bright Keiskamma.
Then at last its journey o'er,
Where it seeks the wild sea-shore,
'Midst the mighty ocean's roar,
Dies the sweet Keiskamma.