Queenstown.

Long years ago this lakeside town has known
The frenzied quest for gold, the turbulent
And fevered days of gold when seekers came
And founded here their tented settlement.
Yet though those times are laid away in sleep
Long and long ago, the golden days.
Great golden days, remain as heritage
When sunshine floods adown the alpine ways
To where the waters of the lake lie deep
And blue as summer skies of Maori land.
This lake, wherein at times lie mirrored all
The wealth of splendour that a master hand
Has woven into mountain, snow and sky
In intermingled light and shade until
Enchantment and tranquility are made
As one and all is hushed and clear and still.
Sub-alpine nights in vestal clarity
Of starry skies close down the golden day
Whilst towering battlements stand sentinel
Inviolate against time's slow decay.
The seasons march upon their way, they merge
And change along the slow-revolving year,
Yet ever with her queenly grace, this town,
This regal town, this Queenstown of the clear
Wide southern skies shall keep her open court,
Here taking tribute from the majesty Of mountain lands, and here in her own realm
Transcending grandeur to sublimity.

—“Winsh.”