By The Waters Of Hunua.

Hidden by the hills surrounding

Hark! an echo sounding, sounding;

'Tis the voice of falling water
'Tis the chanting of Hunua.
Here the breezes tell the Fern Trees

Songs of love so sweet and low;

Here the brown skinned youths and maidens
Roamed contented long ago.
Where the white-skinned wild Manuka

Gives its perfume to the air;
Where the Rata's bright red blossoms
Fall to earth, lie bleeding there.

—Rhoda Hare.

* * *