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The New Zealand Railways Magazine, Volume 9, Issue 4 (July 2, 1934.)



Auckland my beautiful,
It is not the sunset
Nor the pale green sky
Shimmering through the curtàin
Of the silver birch
Nor the quietness;
It is not the hopping
Of the little birds
Upon the lawns
Nor the darkness
Stealing over all things
That moves me.
But the moon creeps slowly
Over the tree-tops
Among the stars—
I think of her
And the glow her passing
Sheds on men.
Auckland my beautiful,
I will climb
Into the branches
To the moonlit tree-tops
That my blood may be cooled
By the wind.