Queenstown.

I often fancy Heaven's angels dwell
So near to Queenstown that their voices fall
Like vesper music with its holy spell,
When soft the tui to his mate doth call.
Betimes I picture, when the parting day
Leaves rosy kisses on the mountain side,
Or moonlight shyly spends a golden ray,
That some fair god is passing with his bride.
I wonder not that tourists in amaze
Step on thy shores with reverential tread,
And bare their heads before the crimson blaze
Of sunset glory when the day is sped.
I find no heaven in my richest dreams
Surpassing with its shades of mystic brown,
When moonlight o'er the fairy harbour gleams,
The wondrous beauty of this quaint old town.

James J. Stroud.

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