The timeless, surly patience of the serf That moves the nearest to the naked earth And ploughs down palaces, and thrones, and towers. - Roy Campbell

You praise the firm restraint with which they write –
I'm with you there, of course:
They use the snaffle and the curb all right,
But where's the bloody horse?

We shall not meet again: over the wave
Our ways divide, and yours is straight and endless –
But mine is short and crooked to the grave:
Yet what of these dark crowds, amid whose flow
I battle like a rock, aloof and friendless –
Are not their generations, vague and endless,
The waves, the strides, the feet on which I go?

South Africa, renowned both far and wide
For politics and little else beside.