 | The lion's cub |  |
WHENCE AND WHITHER?
This is what he said in brief,Sekasa, the Kaffir chief,
To the Frenchman, Arbrousset,
As beneath the palms they lay.
56
Twelve long years: then on a rock
I sat me down, thereon to mark
What would happen in the dark.
Questions many I asked, but none
Answered—could not answer one:
None who made the Stars, nor who
Taught them their dances in the blue.
Do the Waters, swift and bright,
As they flow from morn to night
Never weary of their race?
Whence and whither, to what place?
Where do they find rest,
In what arms, and on what Breast?
Whence and whither go the Clouds,
In wedding garments, and in shrouds?
Such imperishable crowds!
Whither away,
By night and day,
Like shadows over a magic glass,
Do they pass, and pass, and pass?
Weeping out themselves in rain,
They are falling now again.
What sends them,
And ends them,
And who when all is done, befriends them?
We have many a sharp diviner
(Though you French savants are finer),
But they do not fetch the rain,
57
Nor any chance of breaking it,
Nor do I see them, though I watch well,
Go for it, either to Heaven or Hell;
But somehow they seem to have the spell.
I cannot see the Wind,
Above, before, behind.
I know not whence it is,
Whether from bale, or bliss:
I feel what makes it come and go,
And rage, and worry, and roar,
For I live, you know, on the shore
Where the blasts of the desert blow.
But I shall never know
How the luscious corn doth grow.
Yesterday, yes, it was yesterday,
There was not a blade of grass in my field,
That is thick to-day as a warrior's shield;
For look to-day,
And look far away,
It is fresh and green,
And the sky over all is serene.
Who gave it this power to bring forth?
Who and what, save Earth,
Who folds us all in her broad arms' girth,
Our young, old Mother, the Earth?”
| The lion's cub | |