"Come, father! far away we'll go!
I'll ever comfort thee;
We'll leave our home, and seek our graves
Far by the great blue sea!"
They left the white man's glitt'ring tents
And climb'd the mountain brow;
The father filled with sad despair,
The maiden hopeless now.
•••••
Few weeks have pass'd; the Kaffir girl
Has left her native land,
And travell'd far o'er hill and dale,
And now sits by the strand.
She gazes on that mighty sea
She ne'er had seen before;
Half-pleased, half-awed, she hears the waves
Hoarse-moaning on the shore.
She loves to see the stately waves
Come rolling to the land,
And dash their foam-crests on the rocks,
And murmur o'er the sand.
She speaks no word, she moves no limb,
But sits as in a trance,
And ever looks out to the sea
With that same wond'ring glance.
•••••
Page:A Treasury of South African Poetry.djvu/211
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WILLIAM RODGER THOMSON.
185
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