  Beneath the humid skies Where green birds wing, and heavy burgeoned trees Sway in the fevered breeze, My Brother lies. And rivers passionate Tore through the mountain passes, swept the plains, O'erbrimmed with tears, o'erbrimmed with summer rains, All wild, all desolate. Whilst the deep Mother-breast Of drowsy-lidded Nature, drunk with dreams, Below Pangani, by Rufigi streams, Took him to rest. Beneath the sunlit skies, Where bright birds wing, and rich luxuriant trees Sway in the fevered breeze, My Brother lies. The bending grasses woo His hurried grave; a cross of oak to show The drifting winds, a Soldier sleeps below. —Our Saviour's cross, I know, Was wooden, too. |
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