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The New Zealand Railways Magazine, Volume 11, Issue 12 (March 1, 1937)



In brimming bowl the water-lilies gleam
With trembling cups and leaves like fretted lace;
Their hidden roots can feel a golden stir
Moving in finny shoals from place to place.
Time tarries in this grotto of delight,
Where twilight loiters and the dawn is long,
And doves fly down to drink, and lave their feet,
And passing thrushes, generous of song.
But high above the lilies and the pool
There dreams a nymph, a graven girl of stone,
Some pristine deity of sun and shade,
Who stands on tiptoe, naked and alone,
Reaching her hands to clutch a sleeping star
And pluck it from its cold and skyey bed,
Or yearning upward for a veil of cloud
To wreathe about her shining sculptured head.

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