30 JANUARY 1904, Page 31
POETRY.
AFRICA.
SHE stands, with dusky head downbent, And gloomy eyes that spell despair, She who is old—yet young of face,— She to whom fell the dark disgrace, Cain's evil brood to bear !
She dreams of Nations long since dead, Of millions killed by fire and flood, And, though her parted lips are swer-t. Beneath her slender, tired feet, Run rivulets of blood!
Misfortune met her at her birth : Her children bore the brand of Cain, Her lands the home of savage brutes, Of songless birds,—of bitter fruits,— Of slavery, and pain !
Her wealth has tempted many men ; But for herself not one bath sighed ; And lower bows the dusky head, From sombre eyes salt tears are shed Of bitter wounded pride !
Johannesburg. GEORGE COSSINS.
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