Musings in Maoriland
Morning Above Dunedin
Morning Above Dunedin.
God's golden limner of our planet's days,
O'er summer's surface spreads his morning sheen,
And on the trees a hundred tints of green
Are shimm'ring in the dazzle of his rays;
Beneath the boughs each breeze-stirr'd shadow plays,
And side by side gnarl'd forest ancients lean
Their tassell'd heads together. Through the scene
A lonely mountain creeklet sings and strays.
Melodious trills from feather'd exiles' throats—
Pure warblings of the Old Land and the New,
Which silence all the tui's simpler notes—
Blend in a flood of euphony, that through
The groves and bowers of clust'ring foliage floats
To chase the lark's sweet echoes in the blue.