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The New Zealand Railways Magazine, Volume 8, Issue 4 (August 1, 1933)

The Calling of Wi Maia

page 31

The Calling of Wi Maia.

The sea desired his body's grace of youth,
The fair, brown, tapered limbs of him,
The suncrisped hair of him,
His bright, dark eyes and smiling curved mouth.
“Wi Maia, come, O come!”
Proud in his youthful strength he stood upright
And spread his arms into the air,
He let the breeze kiss where
It willed, and felt the cool spray at his feet.
“Wi Maia, come, O come!”
With pliant and desirous flow the weed
Waved long arms on the foam-laced surge,
And with melodious urge,
In mournful monotone, the waters said,
“Wi Maia, come, O come.”
Grey gulls rode feather-light about the cove,
Borne effortless upon the stream,
And in an envied dream
Of ease they circled, settled, soared above.
“Wi Maia, come, O come!”
Wi Maia sighed. Cool was the beaded spray,
Cool was the breeze that kissed his brow
And O so swiftly, now
And then, moved darkly rippling on the sea.
“Wi Maia, come, O come!”
Earth gave no answer to his ardent grace
Nor to the light foot's swift caress
Yielded in tenderness;
The small waves murmured with a languorous peace,
“Wi Maia, come, O come!”
Again his strength he poised and on the rock
Stood like a flax-spear, slimly tall;
Unclad and naked all
He stood, then leaped to meet a wave that broke;
“Wi Maia, come!” “I come!”

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