Wednesday, March 04, 2015


 White as sand of Muizenberg
     Spun before the gale --
    Buy my heath and lilies
     And I'll tell you whence you hail!
Under hot Constantia broad the vineyards lie --
Throned and thorned the aching berg props the speckless sky --
Slow below the Wynberg firs trails the tilted wain --
Take the flower and turn the hour, and kiss your love again!
-Rudyard Kipling, "The Flowers"

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