Half her land was dead with drouth,
Half was red with battle;
She was fenced with fire and sword,
Plague on pestilence outpoured,
Locusts on the greening sward
And murrain on the cattle!”
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Here in a large and sunlit land,
Where no wrong bites to the bone,
I will lay my hand in my neighbours’ hand,
And together we will atone
For the set folly and the red breach,
And the black waste of it all;
Giving and taking counsel each
Over the cattle-kraal
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This is the second verse of the poem “The Settler”.
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Sudden the desert changes,
The raw glare softens and clings,
Till the aching Oudtshoorn ranges
Stand up like the teeth of kings
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This is the first verse of “Bridge Guard in the Karroo.”
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