ISOLE GALLEGGIANTI

LIBRARY GARDENS (JOHANNESBURG)
Pagoda-pink the foxgloves stand
And stare me out with scentless pride;
Culture has made them pale and bland,
Their scalloped lips with red are dyed.
From each bell lolls a tongue of pollen.
Beauty alone could look so sullen.
Bottle-lit and brown as earth
The tramp leans on his jangled knees
And stares between his distant feet
Where shoes grin toes enlarged with dirt.
While pigeons strut on salmon legs,
He drains his death to life’s last dregs.
Beneath the Latin tag the shade
Rears around the metal doors.
Cold rings hang from lion’s jaws,
The steps are shadowed with black blades.
And leather spines, in lofty racks
Stand royally, untouched by Blacks.
34