Magwere, Who Waits Wondering

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INear the edge of the big swamp where cane rats live,Grew Magwere the mealie.

The crows who nest on the Peak,And the striped field-mice from underground,And the thin-nosed shrew that dies on footpaths,Had miss'd Magwere when she was sown.

Therefore the mealie grewIn the moist earth on the swamp edgeWith many of her sisters;

And threw up gay leaves, yellow-green,That glitter'd brightly in the sunshine,And always laugh'd when the wind blew,And lisp'd, day long, in the ears of her sisters.

And Madongwe, the red locusts,Found not the green leaves of Magwere,Who flourish'd on the swamp edge.

Kwagudu, the old wife, with her hoeThat was worn blunt-nosed with use,Weeded all day the fields of her husband,And hoed the weeds from the roots of Magwere.

And Wanaka, the young mother,Left her baby in the shade of Magwere,While she pick'd mowa for the pot.

And the fat baby laugh'd greatlyAt the green leaves that waved so, --So gaily in the cool windThat set all the mealies a-rustling.

IILaugh'd in the sky, and sent words by the wind,And the Wind whisper'd in the ear of Magwere.

`O Magwere,' the Wind said, `thus says the Sun: --"Ha, ha, Magwere, by the swamp edge!Smile now, Magwere, while you can,For the time of harvest is very close.

"Then will your flowers die, Magwere,Your brown leaves sing only of death,And your shiny beard will wither and turn brown.

"Madzua Nipi, or some other maiden,Hot and hard-handed, from the kraal,Will pluck you from your stalk, and tear your sheathThat hides the softness of your golden grain.

"What will Madzua Nipi do with you?Roast you upon the coals, and shred your grainsInto her hand, and throw them in her mouth!

"Or will Marumi come, the husbandman,Saying, `This cob is good,' -- and put you byTo sleep awhile and wake again in Spring,To blossom gloriously an hundred-fold?"'

IIIAnd very rigid in the mocking sun;And knew not any answer for the wind.

And very dry her leaves grew in the sun,And very brown her stalk, her sheath, and beard;And all her joy drew back into her heartThat swell'd so sorrowful beneath its sheath.

© Fairbridge Kingsley