Maraka Hill

Dust on the bracken—
How our steps slacken,
Lagging and dragging up Makara Hill!
Dim now and dimmer
Pale foxgloves glimmer,
Dusk from the valley steals star-eyed and still.

West winds that bluster
Scarce now can muster
Breath to set swaying the leaf on the tree;
Past all re-kindling
The sunset fires, dwindling,
Die on the ashen-gray hearth of the sea.

Stilled is our chatter,
Only the clatter
Of hob-nails on metal rings out on the night;
Just one more turn now—
See where there burn now
Lights of Karori—the end is in sight!