In the mountain fold
By the green-blue bay,
Where the waves are flecked
By the evening gold
At the close of day;
And the berg is decked
With a film of grey,
And the mountain's frown
On the darkening town —
My mem'ries stray.
By the fringing beach,
By the restless wave,
Is the straggling town,
And its limits reach
From the highest place
By the mountain's crown
To the mountain's base —
Where the waters lave.
Hopeful Town
By the Cape of Hope;
By the sandy slope
Where the Hills look down;
By the wind-swept kloof —
On the barrack, grim:
On the whitened roof,
On the garden trim:
On the restless Bay
Where the sea-fowl whirls
And the spume-dust swirls
To the Zephyr's whim —
At the close of day.
Darkening Bay,
Where ever lay
Alert to slip
From leashes taut
A blood-flecked hound
In the pale lean ship;
And where the sound
Of echoing boom
From far away
Is a full-mouthed bay,
As the quarry's found.
Mournful bay
In green and grey,
I've thought on you
This many a day.