The storm is spent, the wind has died away;
Cool raindrops cling to trembling leaf and tree
As one departing lingers--loath to stay--
And yet departing more unwillingly.
The clouds have vanished from the purpled sky
Before the footsteps of the rising moon
(The queen whose j**elled courtiers prostrate lie
Dazed by the splendour of her silvered shoon).
The earth beneath, half-hidden, half-revealed,
Breathes mellowed beauty where each faery beam
Bathes kloof and vlei and kraal and mealie-field
And willows swaying sadly o'er a stream--
In light--wherein a mining shaft may seem
The angel's ladder of a poet's dream.