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The New Zealand Railways Magazine, Volume 12, Issue 10 (January 1, 1938.)

Cross-Roads Town

Cross-Roads Town.

Cross-Roads Town lies under the hill, along by the river bank,
Where the river-bed winds blow through the grass in whispers thin and lank,
Where the river licks the round white stones and the broken stranded spars
Of the bleaching drift of the mountain streams that lie by the white silt bars.
Cross-Roads Town has one long road that runs by the river side,
With verandah posts for hitching rails, and shade where the stray dogs hide.
With a clapboard hall, and straggling shops, and the coaching stable ranks
Where the mail-car men play poker, and the blacksmith's anvil clanks.
Oh, the old mail coaches sweep no more through drowsy Cross-Roads Town,
Where the river-bed winds blow through the grass that is thin and lank and brown,
But the old wheels roll in the storms that break on the white-splashed mountain roofs,
And the thunder that shakes in the river in spate is the thunder of galloping hoofs!

—Joyce West.