South Africa, thou land of many dreams,
Whose children do but scanty harvests reap,
Whose many dreams have set again in sleep,
Though still one glowing crop in sunlight gleams;
Thou land of unfulfill'd, forgotten schemes,
Of pledge and promise--a pathetic heap,
Yet, yet, our hold upon thee will we keep.
Thy havens, veld and kopjes, and thy streams!
We care not howsoe'er thy foes malign,
But those, the brood thou fosterest, we scorn,
Who only love the gifts that make them thine,
And honour not the land where they were born:
Thy children round thy neck will join their hands,
And rise to make thee blesséd among lands.