Classic Poem

Grey rocks, brown stones—
Swarming upon abrupt hilltops,
As vultures cluster around carrion;
Beading the crinkled bodice of the veld,
As ladybirds spangle the finery of a sun-flower:
Grey rocks, brown stones,
Soulless, lifeless, uncomely,
Deaf to the shining utterances of the dew,
Deaf to the murky roar of impatient thunder;
Blind to the dazzling eye of the sun,
Blind to the livid lasso of the lightning;
Deaf, blind and uncomely,
Immutable and imperturbable,
Grey rocks, brown stones.

Grey rocks, brown stones:
Battered by the hard lips of Drought
The shrill, green trumpets of the grass
Lie stifled in the dust;
The golden dream of the dandelion
Melts and vanishes,
Even as the flame of a blown candle
Is suddenly snatched
Into a clime invisible to man;
The merry, laughing veld-flowers
Droop and disappear,
Fade, as the stars fade
At the approach of day:
But you remain.

Grey rocks, brown stones,
Immutable and imperturbable:
Man is a frail and inconsistent creature,
Caught in the fierce toils of fate
He struggles helplessly,
Like a gentle dove that flutters
In the glittering coils of a serpent;
Often turning from the shining pools of love,
He droops and withers in arid deserts of lust;
Lapt in light breezes of laughter,
Stung by harsh frosts of tears;
He wanders aimlessly,
Until his soul is sucked up by the drought of death:
But you remain.

Grey rocks, brown stones,
The cloven hoof of Drought is on the land;
The grass is dead, the flowers have vanished,
But you remain
‘Imperturbable’, but how could I say, ‘uncomely’?
Grey rocks, brown stones,
Flowering into pale lilies,
That dream in great calm pools of moonlight;
Blossoming into strange wild roses,
Steeped in the rich wines of sunset;
Grey rocks, brown stones,
Earliest and latest of veld-flowers,
You have your own sad loveliness,
Your gleams of glory, too.