Auckland Cherries.

Two children climb the cherry tree—And what clear ringing cries are theirs,
When in the heavy leaves they see The black-hearts flash in earring pairs.
They loop those jewels, laugh at stains, They stop to drink the sudden view
Of Auckland; roofs and dwindling trains,
Then toss their locks and limbs anew.
So brilliant-black their eyes, so rich Their mouths from which red liquor drips,
One wonders in the leaf-light which Are cherries, which are eyes and lips.
And patient, wise, like a good mother, The tree withholds her secret, how
Cherries long vanished burned, and other
Children long vanished rode the bough.

—J. R. Hastings.

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