Page:A Treasury of South African Poetry.djvu/227

And ah! what rose could yield
To my sick sense, surcharged with dust and heat,
A fragrance half as sweet
As smell of moistened field!

Rather mine ears had heard,
Waking, the swish of rain like surging seas
Sound through the swaying trees
Than blithest song of bird;

And fairer to mine eyes
Some frowning dawn, rain-drenched and tempest torn,
Than this soft azure morn
Breathing of Paradise!

Herbert Tucker.