Other formats

    TEI XML file   ePub eBook file  

Connect

    mail icontwitter iconBlogspot iconrss icon

The New Zealand Railways Magazine, Volume 12, Issue 1 (April 1, 1937)

New Zealand Verse

page 25

New Zealand Verse

Delight.

To hail the day from some high cliff at dawning,
When shadows flee before the sun's first ray—
Where sea-birds chant their ever mournful warning
To boats that swing at anchor in the bay.
To see the restless foaming breakers dashing
O'er jagged rocks, and catch the sparkling light
From high-flung spray—(ten thousand rainbows flashing
‘Twixt sea and sky). Lo! this is youth's delight.
To drift at noon down some enchanted river,
Where minnows dart long swaying reeds between;
And every pool of dappled light's a quiver,
Above its bed of speckled gold and green—
To wander free through hours of joyous leisure
Where mushrooms spring, dew-spangled over night;
And Autumn yields her ripened golden treasure
‘Neath skies of blue-Lo! this is true delight.
To linger in the soft fern scented gloaming,
When day is slowly dying in the West;
And joyful greet my comrade homeward coming,
A downy head close nestled on my breast—
To catch the strain of bell-bird vespers chiming,
In dim recess of sombre wooded height;
And hail yon moon in full-orbed splendour climbing
O'er bush-clad hill-Lo! this is sheer delight.

Poor Tom To The Poet.

It's you who are the fool.
I'm bounded by no futile pen,
I write no line on moor or fen,
Or follow any rule.
Nor have I any word,
In measured syllable or rhyme
To tell of bushland and the time
My heart stopped when I heard
A Voice none other knew.
You prate of waters ‘neath the moon,
Of high clear stars in silver shoon,
Of rain, and night, and dew.
Of rivers you have sung,
Of lofty hills, of trees, and rest.
You chatter of a tui's breast—
I speak a tui's tongue.
You pluck a flower and lock
Bruised stem and head in ruthless hands.
This much you feel grave Art demands,
But I can hear her mock.
You think she is a tool
For your thick finger's clumsy use Unseen,
she laughs at your abuse—
It's you who are the fool.

* * *

Reveille.

Awake! For the King of the skies
Has donned his bright vestige of silk,
And is painting with amber tints
The curdled white clouds of milk.
Awake! For the Sea slumbers net—
He has watched you the whole night through,
And is spraying the golden sands
With bubbles of every hue.
Awake! For the song of a bird
Is poured from a wee feathered throat,
And is tossed by the whimsical Wind
To the universe, note upon note.
Awake! For a ribbon of light
Has crinkled around the hills,
And is changing the red-gold clouds
To a circle of silver frills.
Awake! For a new dawn of life
On the world is beginning to break,
And the night is a dream long passed—
So Awake!—sleeping mortals—Awake!

A Maori Exile.

Could I but gaze where stately nikau palms,
Stand straight and tall with rev'rent upraised arms,
In regal loveliness amidst the bush,
And where the kea flies at Dawning's hush,
Or see again a sprig of rata red,
Rain-splashed or dew-impearled when Dawn has fled;
Or feast my eyes upon a Maori Sky,
And watch the lights of Ra with no one nigh.
And in a long canoe on Maori Seas,
Glide tranquilly with rhythm and with ease,
While out beyond—a seagull dips its wings,
And salt-spray flies where Te Moana flings—
Its strength against the rocks of Aotea-roa,
Or breaks in billows blue upon her shore.
Ah! could I stand where Ngauruhoe lies,
When Night's exotic stars in glad surprise,
Spring out in glowing wonder high aloft,
Wrapped in the Mystic Dusk—a mantle soft—
Ere Morning in the Bowl of Omar's Night,
“Has flung the stone that puts the stars to flight” ….
Or see the Cold Lakes mirror lofty peaks,
And moonlight dart in wild fantastic streaks,
Across the haunts of grotesque taniwha,
That guards the entrance to its tapupa.
For this indeed I then would gladly be,
Content to pass beyond Death's Unknown Sea!
And carry there to Io-Wonderment!
A heart at Peace! and mind in full content.

page 26