Classic Poem

Steadily , steadily, onward and onward,
Doggedly crept the invincible vanguard:
On, when — the dawn-star — counted out — —
The smashing sun was hailed with whistle and shout;
On, in the mornings hard and clear
When distant koppies loomed sharp and near;
On, when the noontide's white sun-blaze
Ricochetted from earth in a swirling haze;
On, when the shot sun bled in the West
And the moon-bird fluttered from her cloud-built nest.

Onward labours each caravan,
Each plodding bullock, each patient man;
Trek-chains rattle; jukskeis squeak;
Wheels wake thunder in each stone-throated creek;
Straining oxen gulp and sigh
Gazing before them with bewildered eye;
Koppies cackle to the crack of whip;
See-sawing, heavily, tents rise and dip:
And just-so, ho-ho, steady and slow,
Onward the wagons go.

On and on, to the unmapped spaces,
Onward, in search of the hidden-places,
Past lion's lair and leopard's den
And swarming legions of savage men,
On to the Land of the Trekker's dream,
Where milk and honey in plenty stream:
As an albatross over endless foam
On — to discover the heart's own home!
And just-so, ho-ho, steady and slow,
Onward the wagons go.

Onward by day and by night still went,
Grimly propelled by stubborn intent,
Each trekker's wagon with battered tent,
Frame cracked, paint blistered, sail soiled and rent,
Wobbling wheels and disselboom bent,
Men faint and weary and oxen spent —
Yet onward each wagon went:
Yes, just-so, ho-ho, steady and slow,
Onward the wagons went.