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Cornell University Library 
 PR 5236.R8H8 
 
 The Huia's homeland, and other verses, 
 
 3 1924 013 541 069 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tliis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31 92401 3541 069 
 
THE HUIA'S HOMELAND, 
 
 AND OTHER VERSES. 
 
THE HUIA'S HOMELAND, 
 
 AND OTHER VERSES. 
 
 BY 
 
 RO SL YN,-^t?<W5^.j 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 ELLIOT STOCK, 62, PATERNOSTER ROW, E.G. 
 
 1897. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 NEW ZEALAND POEMS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 introduction i 
 
 new zealand 2 
 
 the waitemata ■ 4 
 
 pohutukawa - j 
 
 the huia feather - ' - j 
 
 bush ballad 9 
 
 the big kauri, waiotahi creek ii 
 
 our pearl o' the sea i3 
 
 the waihou 17 
 
 the mistletoe 18 
 
 bells of yule 1 9 
 
 austral christmas 22 
 
 nor'-east 24 
 
 thames, new zealand 25 
 
 good-bye, coromandel ! - 26 
 
 christmas chimes - 27 
 
 woodland wanderings 29 
 
 TO HfiLfeNE - 31 
 
 THE RATA 32 
 
 THE GOWAN'S MISSION 33 
 
 ON THE WHARF 36 
 
 ORANGE BLOSSOMS 38 
 
 BRIDE BELLS- - 39 
 
 A CHRISTMAS COLLOQUY 4O 
 
 THE WRECK OF THE 'WAIRARAPA' 42 
 
 EMILIE'S STORY OF THE WRECK OF THE 'WAIRARAPA' 44 
 
vi Contents 
 
 PAGE 
 HINAKI, THE LAST OF THE NGATIPOA - 48 
 
 HAURAKI, THE NGAPHUI - 54 
 
 THE LEGEND OF HINEMOA - 62 
 
 TE AROHA yo 
 
 THE THAMES, NEW ZEALAND, AND THE TRAVELLER 72 
 
 THE CLEMATIS 
 THE miner's LETTER 
 YELLOW KOWHAI 
 RED KOWHAI 
 
 74 
 
 - 75 
 
 78 
 
 79 
 
 MANUKA - go 
 
 zealandia - 81 
 
 allan, the bugler of the fifty-eighth 82 
 
 god's acre by the sea 84 
 
 to a scotch thistle 86 
 
 glossary 87 
 
 NARRATIVE POEMS. 
 
 BENEATH THE PINES 
 THE TEST 
 DEMOSTHENES 
 A LEGEND 
 
 91 
 93 
 
 93 
 
 95 
 dona ROSARIO g6 
 
 viola g8 
 
 EIGHTEENTH OF JUNE, iSiS lOQ 
 
 REFLECTIVE POEMS. 
 
 FRIENDSHIP - 
 MIDNIGHT MUSING 
 
 105 
 107 
 
 'THINE OWN FRIEND' I08 
 
 109 
 
 "3 
 
 114 
 
 REMINISCENCE 
 
 COMPARISON - 
 
 SELF-COMMUNING 
 
 DREAMING - - - . ] [g 
 
 REST - - - . 117 
 
 'GOOD-NIGHT' - - H8 
 
 VISIONS OF CHILDHOOD - . 120 
 
 SHADOWS - - . 121 
 
Contents vii 
 
 SENTIMENTAL POEMS. 
 
 DRIFTING CLOUDS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 'all's for the best' 122 
 
 WOULD YOU? 
 
 TRIFLES 
 
 SYMPATHY - 
 
 THE NIGHT-WATCHES t26 
 
 RESPONSIVE - 
 
 DESOLATING WAR 
 
 124 
 124 
 I2S 
 
 127 
 129 
 
 •33 
 
 AUREOLA - 136 
 
 FATED - 137 
 
 RIRO-RIRO I3g 
 
 MIGNON 139 
 
 THE UNFORGOTTEN • I40 
 
 SUMMER - . 141 
 
 THE sailor's tryst I43 
 
 PLIGHTED, YET PARTED I45 
 
 ' IS IT A DREAM ?' I47 
 
 ANNIE'S BIRTHDAY - I48 
 
 FAIRIES AND FLOWERS - IJO 
 
 FOR somebody's BIRTHDAY- 152 
 
 YOU AND I - 153 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 BURIED AT SEA - 157 
 
 THE BLIND MAN'S DEFINITION OF FRIENDSHIP - 158 
 
 THE emigrant's RETROSPECT IS9 
 
 THE captain's STORY - 16I 
 
 THE ROSE PETAL - 163 
 
 THE barge BIER 166 
 
 HOPE - r68 
 
 moonrise - 169 
 
 annual memories - i70 
 
 pray one for another - 1 72 
 
viii Contents 
 
 THE INNER LIFE 
 
 MYSTIC MESSENGERS 
 
 COMMONPLACES 
 
 ABSENT 
 
 COMMON-SENSE AND TRUE LOVE 
 TRUE BLUE 
 
 PAGE 
 
 flora's spell '74 
 
 176 
 
 177 
 178 
 
 THE TWO CITIES '79 
 
 i8i 
 
 182 
 
 TO A 184 
 
 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 ' COME YE APART ' 187 
 
 BENEDICITE - ■ 188 
 
 THE HEAVENLY VISION 189 
 
 CONSECRATION HYMNS I90 
 
 THE JOY OF THE LORD I94 
 
 ' HELP, LORD !' 196 
 
 THE EUCHARIST 197 
 
 GETHSEMANE I98 
 
 ASPIRATIONS - 199 
 
 THE teacher's GREETING 200 
 
 BETHEL - 201 
 
 HER DYING PRAYER - 202 
 
 THE UPHILL PATH 203 
 
 ECHOES OF PATMOS - 205 
 
 'PASSETH away' 207 
 
 GOD IS LOVE - 209 
 
 BEYOND 211 
 IN HEAVEN - 211 
 
NEW ZEALAND POEMS. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Oh, my Colonial Rhymelets ! 
 
 Is there waiting for you and me 
 A hail-fellow-well-met greeting 
 
 From fine folk far over the sea ? 
 
 Will they draw closer around them 
 Their purple in Britain the Free, 
 
 Hoarding their praise for their home-born, 
 These fine folk far over the sea ? 
 
 Upraising proud, pencilled eyebrows 
 Amazedly, ' Can this thing be 
 
 Colony-born, and a Poet ?' 
 Cry fine folk far over the sea. 
 
 Will they ignore our appearance, 
 
 That we from their presence may flee 
 
 Like a subdued Cinderella, 
 
 These fine folk from over the sea ? 
 
 Will there be never a kind word 
 From those at the top of the tree, 
 
 And never a ' Come up higher,' 
 From fine folk far over the sea ? 
 
 I 
 
New Zealand 
 
 Still, cheerily oh, my Rhymelets, 
 Go hoping for sweet courtesie. 
 
 Whispering of brighter Britain 
 To fine folk far over the sea. 
 
 Earnest of life in the South-East 
 
 (Like the kelp that came floating free 
 
 Towards those tall Castilian vessels) 
 To fine folk far over the sea. 
 
 NEW ZEALAND. 
 
 PAST. 
 
 Flax, fern, and Nikau rustled in the breeze 
 
 That far the bell-bird's liquid music bore 
 
 Through golden-fruited, tall Karaka-trees, 
 
 While blue waves murmured gently on the shore ; 
 
 And mating with the mighty solitude 
 
 The strange, gigantic moa stalked serene ; 
 
 When entered on this ocean Eden green 
 
 A tribe of stalwart natives, semi-nude, 
 
 In frail canoes had crossed th' unsounded deep ; 
 
 But here their paddles left the flashing foam : 
 
 By turns they idly loll, fish, weave, and sleep, 
 
 Or on th' ensanguined war-path roam. 
 
 Idols grotesque adore, the wild, weird Haka tread, 
 
 The supernatural and direful Tapu dread. 
 
 PRESENT. 
 
 Anon there landed on this lovely isle 
 Strong-sinewed Commerce and the Gospel fair, 
 
New Zealand 3 
 
 Sublimely consecrate by holy prayer. 
 
 The fertile hills and valleys sweetly smile, 
 
 Majestic cities crown the heights with speed, 
 
 While gallant ships in goodly hai-bours lie. 
 
 Unnumbered flocks roam o'er the verdant mead, 
 
 And church-spires point to heaven, calm and high. 
 
 Two races mingle in the busy mart j 
 
 Two tongues are spoken by the sounding sea ; 
 
 Two children share alike Zealandia's knee : 
 
 Maori and Saxon nestle to her heart. 
 
 From gnome-like haunts are borne earth's treasures rich 
 
 and dear j 
 Bravely beneath the British flag glides year by year. 
 
 FUTURE. 
 
 Dear isle ! surrounded by unfathomable depths of blue. 
 
 Kept verdant by a thousand sparkling streams ; 
 
 So may the social bounds be girded by the true, 
 
 So irrigated by love's purest gleams, 
 
 And what a glorious future shall be thine. 
 
 Long as the Starry Cross shines on thy sea-girt strand, 
 
 Till on the page of Time thy history grand, 
 
 Inscribed in golden characters, shall shine ! 
 
 Rich in thine own resources, rich in friends. 
 
 Peace in thy valleys, plenty on thy shore. 
 
 Thy children seeking light and knowledge evermore ; 
 
 Like dew the heavenly benison descends. 
 
 Jewelled thy crown, and sceptre fair and free. 
 
 Queen of the South Pacific, hail to thee ! 
 
4 The Waitemata 
 
 THE WAITEMATA. 
 
 Oft in fancy, oft in dreamland, 
 
 I am gliding down the current 
 
 Of our own broad Waitemata 
 
 To the blue and boundless sea ; 
 
 But the thought of severance tightens more 
 
 The chords of love that bind me 
 
 To the harbour of my native place 
 
 And home of infancy. 
 
 With a lover's fond devotion I have pledged myself to 
 hold thee 
 Ever first and ever dearest of all tides that ebb and 
 flow. 
 Waitemata ! Sparkling Water ! who could look upon thy 
 beauty 
 And grudge thee tribute, e'en apart from charms of 
 long ago ? 
 
 Miles removed, I seem to see thee in the early summer 
 morning. 
 With a thousand thousand mimic suns aglow in every 
 wave; 
 With each wellrknown bay and headland lying pic- 
 turesquely round thee. 
 Where the white Manuka used to bloom and Toi-toi 
 wave. 
 
 From the Watchman, tiny islet, like a sentinel in mid- 
 stream, 
 Just abreast the caves that honeycomb the cliffs on 
 Shelly Beach, 
 
The Waitemata 5 
 
 Where the old Pohutukawa spread their bright December 
 blossoms 
 All so safely, tantalizingly, away above our reach. 
 
 Down to Birkenhead and Northcote, and the heights 
 round Takapuna ; 
 Round the north shore with the FlagstaflF Hill, the guns 
 on the North Head; 
 Till across the dark blue channel rises dear old Rangi- 
 toto, 
 Though the sky no longer o'er its crest portentously 
 grows red. 
 
 Waitemata, I must hold thee ever first and ever dearest 
 Of all rivers that flow east or west beneath New Zealand 
 skies ; 
 For upon thy dark blue waters, half in terror, half in 
 pleasure, 
 I remember, I remember how I looked with baby eyes. 
 
 POHUTUKAWA. 
 
 'Tis not the holly red I sing 
 
 'Neath Albion's snowy skies ; 
 Nor yet the rose that blushes sweet 
 
 For lustrous Persian eyes ; 
 Nor yet the stately palm that waves 
 
 O'er Asiatic dome : 
 But the dear old native Christmas flower 
 
 Of my New Zealand home. 
 
Pohutukawa 
 
 O'er-arched with blue in golden days 
 
 On many a cliff and bight, 
 With gnarled branches far outspread, 
 
 Bedecked with tassels bright. 
 I love thee well, I love thee well, 
 
 Pohutukawa-tree ; 
 From infancy a subtle spell 
 
 Thy blossom cast o'er me. 
 
 Is it because I love the sea ? — 
 
 The sea thou lovest so, 
 Oft bending o'er until the depths 
 
 Reflect thy crimson glow ; 
 Or mad and merry little waves 
 
 Veil thee with silver spray, 
 Dancing in gayest elfin sport 
 
 On some fair Christmas Day ? 
 
 If thou hadst bloomed on classic soil 
 
 Where Sappho stirred the soul ; 
 Or by the lone, wild Orcades 
 
 Where Ossian's echoes roll ; 
 Or even in the good old land 
 
 When Royal Alfred sang, 
 And baron's hall and lady's bower 
 
 With merry music rang, 
 
 Thy fame had reached to other shores. 
 And men had talked of thee, 
 
 Our own Pohutukawa 
 Beside the summer sea. 
 
Pohutukawa 
 
 For worthy art thou meed of praise 
 
 As myrtle-tree or lime, 
 As olive-tree or sandalwood 
 
 Of cloudless Orient clime. 
 
 But far amid the ocean wide, 
 
 And far adown the days, 
 Where shall we find the voice, the harp. 
 
 To sound abroad thy praise ? 
 And yet right well we love to see 
 
 Thy plumy, rich array, 
 O tree of sunny mem'ries 
 
 And Southern Christmas Day ! 
 
 The green Karaka's golden fruit 
 
 Is ripening in the sun ; 
 Red Rata wreathes the Kauri 
 
 Where creeks in shadow run. 
 The white clematis long ago 
 
 Hath lost her starry flowers ; 
 Pohutukawa's crimson plumes 
 
 Must deck our Christmas bowers. 
 
 THE HUIA* FEATHER. 
 
 Leave the eagle to its eyrie 
 In the skyey heights afar ; 
 
 Let the condor soar unnoticed 
 O'er the swiftly-flying car. 
 
 * Hoo-e-a. 
 
The Huia Feather 
 
 Leave the gannet on the rough rock 
 Of the Orkney Skerries free, 
 
 While the Huia in homeland 
 
 Claims a glance from thee and me. 
 
 Hark ! the thunderous ocean billows, 
 
 Ceaseless surging night and day 
 Round the lonely little island, 
 
 Now in wrath, and then in play, 
 Are the keepers of the garden 
 
 Where this bird was wont to fly, 
 In the Huia's own homeland, 
 
 Through the halcyon days gone by. 
 
 Sacred feather to the Maori, 
 
 Tapu to the chieftain's wear, 
 Never dowager more haughty 
 
 With the ostrich-plumfed hair. 
 In the palaces of England, 
 
 Than this child of nature rude. 
 Dwelling in a Raupo Whare, 
 
 Near the stately Kauri wood. 
 
 The Huia feather equals 
 
 (In their unenlightened eyes) 
 The strawberry leaves that glisten 
 
 In the courts of Guelph or Guise. 
 Pride of birth as overweening 
 
 As in Don of haughty Spain 
 Swells beneath the tattooed bosoms 
 
 Of these children of the Main. 
 
Bush Ballad 
 
 Theirs not the eagle's eyrie lone 
 
 In its rocky heights afar ; 
 Theirs not the condor soaring up 
 
 O'er the swiftly-flying car; 
 But theirs the graceful Huia, 
 
 For ages long unknown 
 To the wide world, like its homeland 
 
 Down in the temperate zone. 
 
 BUSH BALLAD. 
 
 Away in the dim New Zealand Bush, 
 
 Where the Korimako sings, 
 We rode, where the feathery Pungas spread 
 
 And the graceful Rimu springs ; 
 With hills to the east, and hills to the west. 
 
 In billowing verdure clad, 
 While the hidden force of the watercourse 
 
 Was seen in the lush growth glad. 
 
 We rode by a valley of Nikaus, all 
 
 Majestic, slender, and high, 
 Crowned with their pendulous fronds, and tall 
 
 As palms 'neath an Asian sky. 
 With scarlet berries instead of dates. 
 
 In the tender light serene, 
 A vision of grace was that Nikau vale. 
 
 Fit home for the fairy queen. 
 
 We rode by a valley of Pungas all. 
 And watched as the wandering breeze 
 
10 Bush Ballad 
 
 Whispered the stately and played with the small, 
 
 Like a conqueror bland at ease. 
 And down through the hush of the lonely Bush, 
 
 Heard over the Kowhai float. 
 Abruptly sweet as a silver bell. 
 
 The Tui's repeated note. 
 
 Still gaily we rode right gaily on 
 
 'Neath the overarching shade ; 
 Over the giant roots so brown, 
 Over the creeks, and up and down, 
 
 Till we reached the Kauri glade. 
 
 But there we were fain to draw the rein, 
 
 And, lingering, gaze with pride 
 On each massive form which had braved the storm 
 
 In brotherhood side by side. 
 
 Aurora's car ye may follow afar 
 
 Without seeing sight so grand. 
 Without feeling the spell of that far-away dell 
 
 Where the kingly Kauris stand. 
 
 Oh, grimly gray on the sunniest day 
 
 They rear their sun-seeking height, 
 At the top to allow in each wide-spreading bough 
 
 Close leafage to catch the light. 
 
 Through the summer's cheer, through winter drear, 
 
 The winds and the zephyrs roam 
 Down the grave pillared aisle, while the pale moon- 
 beam's smile 
 
 Illumines the fretted dome. 
 
The Big Kauri ii 
 
 For like carven stone, through the long years grown, 
 
 Symmetric and noble stands. 
 With glory and power in each turret and tower, 
 
 This temple not made by hands. 
 
 Ye may wander or rest from east to west, 
 
 From north to south ye may go, 
 Without feeling the spell of that lone charmed dell 
 
 Where the kingly Kauris grow. 
 
 THE BIG KAURI, WAIOTAHI CREEK. 
 
 Dear poet, who sang of the forest primeval, 
 Leaving the gay world, I'd wander with thee — 
 
 Ay, wander afar, where no castle medieval 
 Rears its gray turrets on crags by the sea. 
 Seeking the shade of the great Kauri-tree. 
 
 Enshrined in a temple of Nature's own making, 
 Reared in its silence, impressive, profound. 
 
 When axes, the echoes of Lebanon waking. 
 
 Felled her proud cedars in scores to the ground, 
 Thy leaves were unstirred by a treacherous sound. 
 
 When Gothic wolves ravaged the banks of old Tiber, 
 When Druids' dread holocaust smirched Britain's sky. 
 
 When the halter of Judas was growing green fibre, 
 When zealous Crusaders to Achoe drew ntgh. 
 Undreamt of, remote, passed thy lone infancy. 
 
13 The Big Kauri 
 
 When once-favoured Raleigh in prison lay pining, 
 When Plymouth folk wept as the stanch Mayflower 
 sailed, 
 
 When fires of rebellion from Versailles were shining, 
 When vengeance the grim, frowning Bastille assailed, 
 Earth-fed and sun-strengthened, thy stature prevailed. 
 
 When Liberty, outraged, in anger and sorrow. 
 Blew her loud reveille o'er Florida's flowers, 
 
 Each day was as calm as its placid to-morrow, 
 Gliding white-souled through these virginal bowers : 
 In soundless procession past thee trooped the hours. 
 
 O glory of nature ! O relic of ages ! 
 Firm as the granite thou seemest to be. 
 
 Still harmlessly round thee the tempest oft rages ; 
 Long may the fire-fiend be warded from thee. 
 Long may the life-sap still rise in our tree ! 
 
 Old England may boast of her oak-trees that flourish 
 On woodland and lea, and exult in their fame ; 
 
 California's bayou and canon may nourish 
 Proud Wellingtonia's unrivalled claim — 
 Towards thee Thames hearts will beat ever the same. 
 
 Hist ! hark ! from thy top growth that melody falling, 
 Dulcet, staccato, scarce heard, ere 'tis done — 
 
 The shy Korimako its shyer mate calling 
 With bell note to vespers at setting of sun. 
 Ere Kiwi and Morepork cries have begun. 
 
Our Pearl o' the Sea 13 
 
 Dear poet, who sang of the forest primeval, 
 Oh, had thy mantle but fallen on me — 
 
 Even though I dwell where no castle medieval 
 Rears its gray turrets on crags by the sea — 
 Fame, like the Rata, had wreathed our grand tree. 
 
 OUR PEARL O' THE SEA. 
 
 Speak no more of Northern Christmas, 
 With its ice and fleecy snow. 
 
 Glowing log, and holly berries 
 Wreathed with waxen mistletoe, 
 
 Like a dream all unregretted. 
 Let the wintry pleasures go. 
 
 Don the lightest, daintiest raiment 
 Ere the sun has mounted high. 
 
 Come and stand beside the river. 
 Hear it murmuring softly by ; 
 
 Through the trees bent greenly o'er it. 
 Summer zephyrs sweetly sigh. 
 
 Mark the distant purple mountain 
 Clearly outlined 'gainst the blue ; 
 
 Hark the lark's ecstatic matin, 
 And the woodland warbler's too. 
 
 From the bush where Rata blossoms 
 Richly crimson meet the view. 
 
14 Our Pearl o' the Sea 
 
 Bring incense, feed the sacred flame of patriotic fire — 
 The mana of the Southern Cross might tune a Delphic 
 lyre. 
 
 Now let the hardy Switzer sing Maggiore or Lucerne, 
 And let the loyal Tyrolese toward his mountain turn ; 
 With equal right we too shall point toward Earnslaw's 
 
 silent snows, 
 Or where her stately wardens guard Te Anau's calm 
 
 repose. 
 
 Now let the dusky Cingalese his odorous island chant. 
 And let high Quito's colonist his altitude still vaunt ; 
 Blame, an you will, our honest pride in woods more safe, 
 
 as fair, 
 Or in the ozone richness of our ocean-gathered air. 
 
 Now let the nor'lander lay claim to myth of gnome and 
 
 troll ; 
 Let English Will in honeyed words depict Titania's 
 
 role. 
 We have a fund of mystic lore as ever Yuletide knew, 
 Of Riri, and of Taniwha in woods and waters blue. 
 
 And let the scornful sceptic rove throughout our con- 
 fined bound. 
 
 From north to south, from east to west, the coward be 
 not found 
 
 Who fails to fight for such a land in any hour of need. 
 
 While glory holds the laurel wreath, to crown each 
 valorous deed. 
 
Our Pearl o' the Sea 15 
 
 Let Britain boast the virile force of Norman, Saxon, 
 
 Dane, 
 To her good stock in this fair land we add another 
 
 strain ; 
 No Hereward more bravely stood, no William harder 
 
 pressed, 
 Than Heke, Rauparaha, with their Maori vim and zest. 
 
 Bring incense, feed the sacred flame of patriotic fire — 
 The mana of the Southern Cross might tune a Delphic 
 lyre. 
 
 Our native or adopted isle, fair Pearl o' the Sea, 
 
 Let north and south, and east and west, in fullest har- 
 mony. 
 
 Each voice a tender greeting that shall bind like golden 
 chains 
 
 Thy lonely shore to lands unseen while Christmas glad- 
 ness reigns. 
 
 (There comes in answer on the wind, in fullest harmony. 
 This fourfold Christmas greeting from our Pearl o' the 
 Sea.) 
 
 NORTH. 
 
 From the banks of the Waitemata, with Pohutukawa 
 
 bright. 
 To the loved, the unforgotten, in the old home out of 
 
 sight, 
 Comes this softly-whispered message from the wanderer 
 
 far away, 
 "' Angels guard them, God be with them and bless their 
 
 Christmas Day.' 
 
i6 Our Pearl o' the Sea 
 
 SOUTH. 
 
 ' To Taua Ata (We meet in the morning) 
 The word of the Maori on eve of the fray : 
 
 I send to my loved ones a colonist's greeting, 
 In fond recollection of old Christmas Day.' 
 
 EAST. 
 
 While the home of the Rimu, the isle of the Kiwi, 
 
 Soft cradle of Toi, of flax and of fern ; 
 Still men who have sought her look over the water. 
 
 Their hearts to the motherland wistfully yearn, 
 But not for the white snow, the red-berried holly, 
 
 The blazing Yule log, and the wax mistletoe — 
 For the far-away faces, the greeting so jolly, 
 
 'A Merry Bright Christmas,' of long, long ago. 
 
 WEST. 
 
 ' Oh, friends so dear ! 
 
 If, in reply to Haremai (Come here), 
 
 Ye couM appear, 
 Our instant cry would be, 
 Kapai ('tis good) Tenakoe, ki te korero, 
 
 Our Christmas and New Year.' 
 
 Thus, thus she binds her lonely shores by bright and 
 
 golden chains, 
 At gleeful Yule, to far-ofif Thule ^nd neighbouring 
 
 Austral plains. 
 To rare, chill reach of Pamir, to low, warm Zuyder Zee, 
 Goes forth this fourfold greeting of perfect harmony, 
 This tribute from the ocean gem, our Pearl o' the Sea 
 
The Waihou 17 
 
 THE WAIHOU. 
 
 Peacefully, tranquilly, on to the sea — 
 
 Flow, river, flow ; 
 Music, thy soft dreamy murmur shall be — 
 
 Flow, river, flow. 
 Once on thy green banks I stood not alone ; 
 Once here I listened to friendship's sweet tone ; 
 Pleasure and sorrow since then I have known — 
 
 Flow, river, flow. 
 
 Time, like thy current, rolls ceaselessly on — 
 
 Flow, river, flow; 
 Mournful or happy, the days soon are gone — 
 
 Flow, river, flow. 
 Sometimes how radiant is Life's azure sky, 
 Sometimes across it how sullen clouds fly! 
 Onward, like thee, through all change we must hie- 
 
 Flow, river, flow. 
 
 On to thy rest in the ocean of blue — 
 
 Flow, river, flow; 
 Gliding so swiftly away beyond view — 
 
 Flow, river, flow. 
 Will every ripple keep sparkling and bright. 
 Glancing and flashing in golden sunlight ? 
 Nay, for soon cometh the shadowing night — 
 
 Flow, river, flow. 
 
 2 
 
l8 The Mistletoe 
 
 Sages find lessons of wisdom in thee — 
 Flow, river, flow ; 
 
 Memories fond have endeared thee to me — 
 Flow, river, flow. 
 
 There by thy side the dim twilight I'd spend ; 
 
 Well with my musing thy rhythm doth blend ; 
 
 Onward and nearer thou'lt be to my friend- 
 Flow, river, flow. 
 
 THE MISTLETOE. 
 
 Oh, ho ! ho ! full well we know 
 England's waxen mistletoe ! 
 Saucy smiles and laughter clear, 
 Christmas gladness, Christmas cheer, 
 Come and go full well we know. 
 Wreathed with waxen mistletoe. 
 
 Thou art red, and thou dost grow, 
 Our New Zealand mistletoe. 
 Where was never Druid hoar. 
 Far from merry England's shore ; 
 And yet, lo, we love thee so, 
 Crimson, coral mistletoe ! 
 
 High and low for thee we go. 
 Our New Zealand mistletoe. 
 Through the virgin forest's gloom. 
 Past the ruddy Rata bloom. 
 Where no foot passed long ago. 
 Seeking thee, red mistletoe. 
 
Bells of Yule ig 
 
 Oh, ho ! ho ! thy leaflets show 
 Hearts, my bonnie mistletoe ; 
 North or south, destined to be 
 Plant of love's sweet mystery. 
 Blushes ! blushes ! Ah, these show 
 Mem'ries of the mistletoe. 
 
 BELLS OF YULE. 
 
 A REVERIE. 
 
 We hear not now from the belfry tower 
 Those welcome sounds of long ago ; 
 And we gaze not now in the twilight hour 
 From our casements over the snow. 
 Yet 'tis the time 
 When the bells should chime 
 Christmas ! glad Christmas ! in every clime. 
 
 Far from the north and its pure, cold whiteness. 
 
 Here in the radiant summer gay. 
 All in the season of glowing brightness, 
 Dawneth upon us Christmas Day. 
 Flowers shed balm 
 On the air so calm, 
 Scarce stirring the fronds of the tall fern palm. 
 
 Down on the shore we love to wander. 
 Watching the blue waves come and go — 
 
20 Bells of Yule 
 
 Alone, by the sounding sea, to ponder 
 Over the days of long ago, 
 
 When life's aim was play, 
 
 And we used to say : 
 ' The pond will be frozen by Christmas Day.' 
 
 And we hail again a vision beaming 
 
 Of youthful faces, dancing eyes, 
 Ringlets, nutbrown, or golden gleaming, 
 All from the vanished past arise, 
 And the greeting sweet. 
 That was only meet 
 To render for us Christmas joy complete. 
 
 Our dreams were all of a future golden. 
 
 Painted with never a shadow gray. 
 When around the fire in the manor olden 
 Story and song closed Christmas Day. 
 And we see them all 
 As the snowflakes fall 
 'Gainst the window-pane, o'er the elm-trees tall. 
 
 How our heart in the mellow mirth rejoices, 
 
 Once again with the joyous band ! 
 Sweet is the laughter of merry voices, 
 Kindly the grasp of friendship's hand. 
 In fancy we stray, 
 Until far away 
 We are spending a bygone Christmas Day. 
 
 But smile and sigh, for across the water 
 Cometh the easy light canoe. 
 
Bells of Yule 21 
 
 Steered not by Albion's blue-eyed daughter — 
 Nay, by a maiden of darker hue. 
 
 The vision dies, 
 
 And 'neath Austral skies 
 From dreams I wake with wond'ring eyes. 
 
 In the azure sky, the bright sun, shining, 
 Gildeth the mountain, bush, and bay ; 
 Eglantine, lilies, roses twining, 
 
 Gather we here on Christmas Day ; 
 The shamrock beneath, 
 And a sprig of heath. 
 Rata, Ti-tree, and fern for our wreath. 
 
 The orchards glow with the ruddy cherry, 
 
 Clustering vine, fruit-laden tree : 
 Oh, well may young and old be merry 
 At Yule-tide in the Southern sea. 
 Where o'er rock and rill. 
 Over vale and hill, 
 Reigns peace on earth, to men good-will ! 
 
 We hear not now from the belfry tower 
 
 The ringing chimes of long ago ; 
 We may not see in the starry hour 
 
 Through our casement the pure, soft snow. 
 Yet the season dear 
 Is as welcome here, 
 And our ' Merrie Christmas !' as true and clear. 
 
22 Austral Christmas 
 
 AUSTRAL CHRISTMAS. 
 
 No softly-falling snowflakes, 
 
 No holly-berried spray, 
 No little Robin red-breast, 
 
 To welcome Christmas Day ; 
 
 No glowing, blazing Yule-log, 
 No shadows on the wall, 
 
 No merry family party 
 In the old English hall ; 
 
 No mistletoe hung slyly, 
 Delight of naughty boys ; 
 
 No Santa Claus, all fur-clad. 
 To bring the children toys ; 
 
 No gentle, warm enfolding 
 Of dainty forms and fair. 
 
 And subsequent swift gliding 
 O'er ice through keen, cold air ; 
 
 No snowdrift purely gleaming, 
 No bright coruscant gem, 
 
 No crystal that the Frost King 
 Hath in his diadem ; 
 
 No wintry sky revealing 
 The star to sailors dear ; 
 
 No, these are only memories 
 In Southern Hemisphere. 
 
Amtral Christmas 23 
 
 Of tropic blue and brightness 
 
 The canopy o'erhead, 
 And robed in ample verdure 
 
 The hiUs and vales we tread. 
 
 The sunlit waves, foam-crested, 
 
 Beneath the cliff" their spray 
 Fling o'er Pohutukawa 
 
 In bloom on Christmas Day. 
 
 And oft the peal of laughter 
 
 And tones of joyous glee 
 Are heard in glades long sacred 
 
 To sylvan minstrelsy, 
 
 Where the cool drip of water 
 
 Hath aye a sweeter sound. 
 And all the charms of woodland 
 
 On every side abound. 
 
 But 'midst these summer pleasures 
 
 The heart still seems to say : 
 'Oh for the winter setting 
 
 Of hallowed Christmas Day !' 
 
 But though the frame be different, 
 
 The picture is the same : 
 On hearts may it grave deeply 
 
 The great Peace-bringer's name ! 
 
 On friends near, dear, and distant. 
 
 Beyond the ocean wide, 
 May Heaven's goodwill blessing 
 
 Descend this Christmas-tide. 
 
24 Nor'-east 
 
 NOR'-EAST. 
 
 A SHEET of silver burnished bright, 
 The tranquil waters of the bay 
 Beneath the Cross* and Crescent lay, 
 
 A dazzling field of lavished light. 
 
 Dark loomed the guarding hills around, 
 While on the charmed silence far 
 The surges thundered on the bar, 
 
 With melancholy, rhythmic sound. 
 
 'Twas sweet, when summer roses bud, 
 To wander on that lonely shore, 
 Oft trembling 'neath the dash and roar 
 
 Of the o'erwhelming ocean flood ; 
 
 To watch the crested billows rear 
 In Titan sport their emerald wall ; 
 Then let its gleaming glory fall. 
 
 Awakening all the echoes near ; 
 
 Or from some jagged rock so lone 
 Gaze on the restless, swirling sea 
 In fascinated reverie, 
 
 Chained by the force half hid, half shown ; 
 
 Or, turning from its baffled might. 
 
 Here, seething foam-wreaths upward leap, 
 There, up some dreary fissure sweep 
 
 (God guide the coasting barque at night !) ; 
 
 * Southern Cross and crescent moon. 
 
Thames, New Zealand 25 
 
 To stroll along the level sand — 
 
 \A'here, like a white cloud to the view, 
 Disport a dainty feathered crew, 
 
 Tame as the birds of Crusoe's strand — 
 
 And gather treasures of the sea : 
 
 Each ' convoluted smooth-lipp'd shell ' 
 To listening ears strange tales will tell, 
 
 Sweet charm for slumbering memory. 
 
 Still fancy sees the moonbeams shine. 
 
 And hears the surges on the bar, 
 
 Though changing years have merged them far 
 Amid the mazes of Lang Syne. 
 
 THAMES, NEW ZEALAND. 
 
 Though fairer lands be lying 
 
 Beneath a brighter sun. 
 The critic's shafts defying, 
 
 Man loveth best but One. 
 And we — yes, we will praise thee, 
 
 Whoe'er our taste condemns. 
 On the banks of the wide Hauraki, 
 
 Our quartzy, queer old Thames. 
 
 No Tuscan sky bends o'er thee. 
 No cedar heights are thine. 
 
 Thy valleys boast no vine rows. 
 Thy meadows feed few kine. 
 
26 Thames^ New Zealand 
 
 And yet we praise thee, love thee, 
 Whoe'er our taste condemns, 
 
 On the banks of the wide Hauraki, 
 Our quiet, quartz-veined Thames. 
 
 The gulf spreads wide and shallow, 
 
 No sea of sapphire blue ; 
 The clayey banks lie fallow, 
 
 Nor shell nor rock in view. 
 Nathless we praise thee, love thee. 
 
 Whoe'er our taste condemns. 
 On the banks of the wide Hauraki, 
 
 Our unpretentious Thames. 
 
 Town by the western waters, 
 
 Thou hold'st a treasure more 
 Unique than any trophy 
 
 Of precious golden ore. 
 'Tis this which binds us to thee, 
 
 Whoe'er our taste condemns, 
 For there lies by the western waters 
 
 Our Duke Domuin Thames. 
 
 GOOD-BYE, COROMANDEL ! 
 
 Heigho ! for it's over, our day among the fields. 
 Resting amid the clover under the willow shields ; 
 Heigho ! for the good-bye, however long delayed, 
 It must be ' Farewell, farewell,' by lips reluctant said. 
 
Good-bye, Coromandel ! 27 
 
 Good-bye, Coromandel, with sunny, sea-girt hills ; 
 Dreams bring us back the music that murmurs in thy 
 
 rills, 
 Paint the daisied meadows where we have been to-day, 
 And all thy hawthorn hedges, a-blossom with white may. 
 
 Good-bye, Tokatea's fern slopes and harbour view ; 
 Road that rises sunward, light feet ascend o'er you ; 
 Good-bye, old Kapanga ; still yield the golden ore 
 Toil has sought and won from thee full forty years or 
 more. 
 
 Heigho ! for it's over, and heigho for the mood 
 Of Sherwood's merry rover, the gallant Robin Hood ! 
 Ay, for the spell is broken, brief, bright, Romany hours. 
 Lost with the western sunbeams, lost as the evening 
 lowers. 
 
 Home, home we are steering, the waves and stars between; 
 'Three cheers for Coromandel, three for the Lincoln 
 
 green !' 
 Heigho for the parting (the sea is deep and wide) ! 
 Hark how the mountains echo the farewell from the tide ! 
 
 CHRISTMAS CHIMES. 
 
 Church bells ! church bells ! o'er hills and dells 
 
 Ring near, ring far away ; 
 Oh, mellow chimes of olden times, 
 
 Sweet bells of Christmas Day! 
 Ye gravely chime the flight of Time, 
 While languor steeps our Southern clime. 
 
28 Christmas Chimes 
 
 Church bells ! church bells ! the music swells, 
 
 By summer breezes sped. 
 The good ships ride on the glittering tide, 
 
 Blue bright, round the old North Head. 
 From stem to poop the gay flags droop 
 O'er many a gallant barque and sloop. 
 
 Church bells ! church bells ! your magic spells 
 
 Have well-nigh wakened tears. 
 As o'er the sea the spirit free 
 
 Relives the vanished years, 
 The blame and praise of bygone days 
 All softened now by memory's haze. 
 
 Church bells! church bells! church bells! church bells ! 
 
 The clouds hang dense and gray ; 
 Now loud, now low, across the snow 
 
 The floating echoes play. 
 The holly-bough ! the mistletoe ! 
 The Christmas waits of long ago ! 
 
 Church bells ! church bells ! how love impels 
 
 True hearts ! Though far we stray 
 On foreign shore, yet friends of yore 
 
 Seem near on Christmas Day. 
 Oh, they are near, as thought makes clear 
 Affection's balance for the year. 
 
 O'er this lone island sunbeams troop 
 
 To-day in golden mail ; 
 In grove, on height, the flowers are bright. 
 
 And verdant hill and dale ; 
 While by the sea our Christmas-tree, 
 In crimson, blushes gloriously. 
 
Woodland Wanderings zg 
 
 Oh, bells of joy ! sweet bells of Yule ! 
 
 Ring long, and loud, and clear, 
 Till hearts shall beat, and lips shall meet, 
 
 And Arcady be here ! 
 Love shall hold sway while ye convey 
 ' Goodwill to men ' on Christmas Day. 
 
 WOODLAND WANDERINGS. 
 
 I ROAMED through the Bush to-day 
 Where fantastic shadows fell, 
 
 And over the boulders gray 
 
 Rushed a creek through the ferny dell. 
 
 I climbed o'er the jagged ledge 
 
 To watch the waterfall. 
 With its far-down verdant sedge 
 
 And stony, fern-clad wall. 
 
 Then across the fallen trees, 
 
 With elastic step and fleet, 
 While o'erhead there passed a breeze 
 
 Intoning low and sweet. 
 
 Through lacing boughs wide spread, 
 There glinted the summer sky. 
 
 And crisply beneath my tread 
 Rustled twigs and branches dry. 
 
 With shrinking hand I took 
 
 Rare fragile ferns away 
 From their home, a sheltered nook, 
 
 Meet haunt for elf and fay. 
 
30 Woodland Wanderings 
 
 'Twas a dell at a mountain's foot, 
 And I strove to gain the height 
 
 By clinging to many a root 
 Of fibrous network tight. 
 
 There drooped the graceful fold 
 Of the lithesome Rata vine ; 
 
 Round trees majestic, old, 
 Festoons of ivy twine. 
 
 I rested beneath the shade 
 Of the Nikau's waving frond. 
 
 In a wild romantic glade, 
 While the world seemed far beyond ; 
 
 There heard a harp-like sound. 
 
 So liquid, dulcet, clear, 
 Chime with the stream's rebound, 
 
 And knew the Tui near. 
 
 And a strangely restful calm 
 O'er all did sweetly breathe, 
 
 For care a sovereign balm. 
 Excelling lotus wreath. 
 
 Then sportive Fancy led 
 Staid, sober thoughts away ; 
 
 How swift and far they sped 
 'Twere difficult to say. 
 
 The mystic eager guide 
 No halt nor tarrying made 
 
 Where rapid rivers glide, 
 
 Nor moor nor mountain stayed. 
 
To Helene 31 
 
 Oh, happy morning dreams, 
 Still ending brightly, well, 
 
 Creek, songster, sunny gleams, 
 Your charms I cannot tell. 
 
 But safe within the heart, 
 
 Enshrined 'mong treasures dear, 
 A picture bright thou art 
 
 To solace and to cheer. 
 
 TO H]feLfeNE. 
 
 Far from the home of the Rata-wreathed Kauri ; 
 
 Far from the Bush, with its Nikau and fern ; 
 Far from the beautiful land of the Maori ; 
 
 Far from its lakes, clear as Alpine Lucerne ; 
 Far from Hauraki's blue waters gleaming. 
 
 Calm Kauaeranga soft treading the glade ; 
 Far from Miranda's hill heights, where dreaming 
 
 Western Aurora departing delayed ; 
 Far from the crimson Pohutukawa treasure, 
 
 Rich downy bloom, laurel-foliaged tree ; 
 Far from the bell-bird's deep note of pleasure, 
 
 H^lfene smiles, far o'er the severing sea. 
 Blossoms of joy her path sweetly strewing. 
 
 Star-beams of comfort shed there from above. 
 Bear on, proud billows, the mild zephyrs wooing. 
 
 I charge ye, bear on this avowal of love ! 
 
32 The Rata 
 
 Bear her this loyal affectionate greeting, 
 
 Fondly remembered — alas ! though not near — 
 
 Heralds of happiness, love never fleeting : 
 
 Glad be her Christmas and fair her New Year. 
 
 THE RATA. 
 
 B.ARE is the snowy Rata, 
 
 The red blooms wild and free ; 
 But the Aroha Rata, 
 The crimson Southern Rata, 
 Is one I love to see. 
 
 Go, stand upon the mountain, 
 And gaze adown the steep 
 
 Above the water's rushing ; 
 
 It climbs the hillside blushing 
 A conscious crimson deep. 
 
 Or penetrate the dense Bush, 
 To witness, nothing loath, 
 
 The stately tree sublimer. 
 
 Or parasitic climber 
 
 Twined round the Kauri growth. 
 
 So red, or white, or crimson. 
 The Rata hath its sphere. 
 
 On beetling rock, low valley. 
 
 And crowded forest alley. 
 Its island home doth cheer. 
 
The Gowan's Mission 33 
 
 Rare is the snowy Rata, 
 
 The red blooms wild and free ; 
 But the Aroha Rata, 
 The soft sweet Southern Rata, 
 
 Stands highest in decree. 
 
 THE GOWAN'S MISSION. 
 
 'TwAS not upon a Scottish brae 
 It smiled ; the upturned face 
 Could gaze upon no sweet bluebell, 
 Nor list its chime in fairy dell. 
 So full of airy grace. 
 
 No thistle reared its purple crest. 
 
 Undauntedly and free ; 
 No sweetly smelling yellow broom, 
 Or fragrant woodruffs rare perfume, 
 
 To tempt the roving bee. 
 
 No mountain heather, pink or white, 
 
 Whispering solitude. 
 Nor mavis lilting loud and clear ; 
 No silent studious herd-boy near, 
 
 Nor kye, of peaceful mood. 
 
 Severed firom those associates. 
 
 Where few would ever see 
 Its look, so innocent of guile. 
 Trusting, confiding wee exile, 
 A gowan on the lea. 
 
34 The Cowan's Mission 
 
 That far away from Albyn's shore 
 
 Had its appointed lot ; 
 A lone Pacific-bounded isle 
 Was gladdened by its presence, while 
 
 Thoughts of Lang Syne it brought; 
 
 And thronging tender memories 
 
 Of happy childish days ; 
 Filial regard, fraternal love, 
 And many a dear one now above. 
 
 Beyond the weird life maze. 
 
 The church where pious fathers bowed 
 
 In worship reverently, 
 With its enclosure, verdant, calm, 
 That often heard the solemn psalm, 
 
 Devotion's melody ; 
 
 The gray and moss-grown monuments. 
 
 That spoke departed worth. 
 And many other hillocks green. 
 With blanks in friendship's love-list seen. 
 Change in the land of birth. 
 
 The peaceful, old-time air of home. 
 
 And youthful fancies free ; 
 A Scotchman's pride, Edina fair ; 
 The Clyde, whose waves did onward bear 
 
 His vessel to the sea. 
 
 All passed before the mental view 
 
 With strange rapidity. 
 As Scotland's patriotic child 
 Found in a Southern climate mild 
 
 A sowan on the lea. 
 
The Gowan's Mission 35 
 
 Where healthful saline breezes float 
 
 O'er a New Zealand hill, 
 And hardy native Ti-tree grows, 
 A creek adown its quartz-bed flows, 
 
 To speed the crushing mill ; 
 
 While from the dense and sombre Bush 
 
 Resounds the Tui's cry, 
 Where graceful fern-trees seem to be 
 Combining true humility 
 
 With station proud and high. 
 
 The agile, lightly-bounding goats 
 
 Cropping rich herbage near ; 
 Blue, glancing, sunny, foam-flecked waves 
 Reverberate in the rocky caves 
 
 That on the coast appear. 
 
 O'erhead the clear and azure dome. 
 
 Cloudless infinity ; 
 Mingling of simple and sublime, 
 Creation's voice and bloom of time, 
 
 A gowan on the lea. 
 
 That little white and golden flower, 
 
 Recalling Scotia's shore ; 
 Where memory round each cherished spot 
 Entwined a true forget-me-not, 
 
 For happy days of yore. 
 
 Though ocean rolled for leagues between. 
 
 Far distant all his kin. 
 It stirred a fount of feehng deep, 
 JFreed from Reserve's grim castle-keep, 
 
 A heart long pent therein. 
 
36 On the Wharf 
 
 Henceforth a kindlier sympathy 
 
 Would in that bosom be ; 
 With its God-given Evangel smile, 
 Thus blessed and cheered the poor exile 
 
 A gowan on the lea. 
 
 Each flower, so varied, lovable. 
 
 Who would not learn from thee ? 
 Fond clinging ivy, lily white, 
 Sweet jasmine, rose, nor ever slight 
 A gowan on the lea. 
 
 ON THE WHARF. 
 
 I SAT on the wharf one evening ; 
 
 The fish in the stream leapt high ; 
 Orion's shining armour 
 
 Hung low in the western sky. 
 
 I sat on the wharf one evening, 
 And looked on the eastern range 
 
 Of hills, like tall masqueraders 
 
 Disguised in their costume strange ; 
 
 While the well-known goldfields' music 
 
 Fell pleasantly on the ear, 
 The rhythmic beat of the stampers 
 
 From batteries far and near. 
 
On the Wharf 37 
 
 I watched from the wharf one evening 
 
 Till the silver moon was seen, 
 Fairy-like the Gentle Annie 
 
 And the Una Hill between. 
 
 Waking visions of days vanished, 
 
 Ere the Pakeha came here ; 
 Only the moon and the mountain 
 
 Unchanged through each changing year. 
 
 Only the moon and the Moreporks 
 
 Are now as they used to be. 
 When the echoes weirdly answered 
 
 To Ngatipo's revelry. 
 
 I gazed on the calm Hauraki, 
 
 That bore on her heaving breast 
 The hero of a hundred fights* 
 
 Long since ; but he is at rest. 
 
 Those lights to northward gleaming 
 
 Alternately red and blue. 
 Shine from our Rotomahana, 
 
 And not from a war-canoe. 
 
 Then down on the wharf that evening 
 
 We chatted right merrily 
 Of men and women in plain prose. 
 
 Without hint of poesie. 
 
 Yet down on the wharf that evening 
 Thus our complex nature wrought 
 
 In hearing, seeing, and speaking, 
 While hoarding heart-deep thought. 
 * Hongi Ika. 
 
38 Orange Blossoms 
 
 Buried deep like the richest ore, 
 Which the trolls alone may view, 
 
 Far too deep for the diamond drill, 
 Let it screw, and screw, and screw ! 
 
 ORANGE BLOSSOMS. 
 
 There never was such a time before in this quiet town 
 
 of ours. 
 There never was such a gathering of bridal bouquet 
 
 flowers. 
 
 We have had many an Easter here, and very nice ones 
 
 too. 
 But never an Easter yet with such hymeneal ado. 
 
 The talk has been nothing but trousseaux since Christmas 
 
 time, and thus 
 The dear girls have had a picnic, but the men say, 
 
 ' Blooming fuss !' 
 
 There never was such a time before in this sleepy 
 
 Thames of ours ; 
 There never was such a gathering of bridal bouquet 
 
 flowers. 
 
 I can't exactly tell you what has put it into the head 
 Of so many Jocks and Jennies at this Easter to be wed ; 
 
 But the fact remains, delightful fact, and as we wish them 
 
 well, 
 I think that the verger should be told to ring St. George's 
 
 beU. 
 
Orange Blossoms 39 
 
 For somehow we are all in this, even if we don't say so, 
 Though it's just like those colonials ?ioi to ring the bell, 
 you know. 
 
 Now when our hearts are all o'ercharged with joy, we 
 
 need a ' went,' 
 And the Easter chimes with wedding chimes in one 
 
 could well be blent. 
 
 And when the passing years have rolled away with many 
 
 a change, 
 When the bride and groom no longer may by old 
 
 Hauraki range. 
 
 Within their hearts this memory shall for aye be kept 
 
 alive, 
 ' The Easter week when we were wed, at the Thames in 
 
 ninety-five.' 
 
 BRIDE BELLS. 
 
 'And so endeth a wooing.' — E. B. Browning. 
 
 Bride bells ! lily bells ! and all the town must go 
 Where bride bells and lily bells silver with their snow 
 Youth's dream, lover's dream, while summer roses greet 
 Love's power and joy's hour with their perfume sweet. 
 
 Bride bells ! lily bells ! a vision of pure grace 
 Sistering the fairy flowers, a drooping maiden face. 
 Bride bells and lily bells, orange blossoms pale, 
 Clasping the diaphanous, softly flowing veil. 
 
40 A Christmas Colloquy 
 
 Bride bells ! lily bells ! a hush, a murmured prayer, 
 Bended brows, solemn vows, a golden ring to wear. 
 Bride bells ! lily bells ! white wreathing o'er her head ; 
 Rainbow blossoms glow beneath her happy tread. 
 Bride bells ! lily bells ! and to the pulsing strain 
 Of Mendelssohn's glad heart-beats goes the bridal train. 
 
 A CHRISTMAS COLLOQUY. 
 
 CHILDREN. 
 
 We wonder if Christmas will ever be here ! 
 We wish we could keep it up twice every year. 
 We look up the almanack daily to see 
 When the dear happy holidays really will be. 
 With money and mince-pies, oh, any amount ! 
 And parties and picnics beyond any count. 
 No wonder we weary for such merry cheer : 
 How nice if it came to us twice every year ! 
 
 MOTHERS. 
 
 Just fancy, if Christmas again isn't here ! 
 
 And it's no time at all since we had it last year ; 
 
 With its company, cooking and cleaning, and heat. 
 
 We house-keeping mothers will all be dead beat, 
 
 For everything comes with a rush, as they say. 
 
 And a houseful of racketing children all day. 
 
 Now, what a grand breathing-space we should have 
 
 clear. 
 If Christmas came only, say, each second year. 
 
A Christmas Colloquy 41 
 
 FATHERS. 
 
 The bachelors may well be gay. 
 
 Our locks are growing thin and gray ; 
 
 Each olive branch this time of year 
 
 Mysteriously grows more dear. 
 
 ' Our new piano, dear papa, 
 
 And the Axminster for mamma.' 
 
 ' A bicycle, I must have one,' 
 
 The pet pipes forth. ' You know that gun,' 
 
 The heir chimes in ; ' 'tis my desire 
 
 That promise, sir, should not hang fire.' 
 
 What mortal with such odds can cope ? 
 
 Bank overdraft, then — Great P. slope ! 
 
 Till we hold shares in the Wahi, 
 
 Let Christmas come one year in tAree ! 
 
 CHILDREN. 
 
 Oh, mothers, you would not deprive 
 Us of our joy ! 
 
 MOTHERS. 
 
 Dear heart alive ! 
 You blessed, blessed children, no ! 
 We'll ice the cakes that truth to show, 
 If fathers grudge you 
 
 FATHERS. 
 
 Hold on, there ! 
 Don't make us kin to grizzly bear. 
 Now, quit that hugging. Well, maybe 
 We'll stand you one more Christmas-tree ! 
 
42 The Wreck of the ' Wairarapa ' 
 
 THE WRECK OF THE 'WAIRARAPA.' 
 
 Ne'er before New Zealand's network of electric wire has 
 
 told 
 Of such pitiful disaster round her wave-washed head- 
 lands bold. 
 Years shall come, and years shall vanish, over smiling 
 
 hill and dale 
 Ere from memory is banished this pathetic shipwreck 
 
 tale. 
 Coming eastward, steaming westward, as the good ships 
 
 take their way — 
 ' That is where the Wairarapa struck the Barrier,' men 
 
 will say. 
 And the child will clasp its mother with a childish face 
 
 of dread. 
 As from passing deck she points it towards the nor'-west 
 
 Miner's Head. 
 So the thrice-repeated story shall be still revived anew, 
 While the Barrier bluffs uprear them, over forty fathoms 
 
 blue, 
 And the east coast to the west coast chant in sister tones 
 
 of woe : 
 'Here was wrecked the Wairarapa; here, the Orpheus 
 
 long ago.' 
 Which was sadder, late, or long since ? who dare choose 
 
 in either case ? 
 Leave the transport with its heroes, and the Wairarapa 
 
 trace. 
 See, in fancy, through the fog bank how she breasts her 
 
 onward course ! 
 
The Wreck of the ' Wairarapa ' 43 
 
 Resolutely, all impervious of old Ocean's mantled force. 
 
 Till the weary day a-waning, lovingly a mother smiled, 
 
 To her heart her baby straining : ' We shall land to- 
 morrow, child.' 
 
 And the infant slept serenely, as the night winds upward 
 bore 
 
 O'er the voice of many waters Sabbath songs of home- 
 land shore. 
 
 Snug and safe lay many landsmen in their homes that 
 fatal night, 
 
 Hearing not the crash portentous, nor the wild cry of 
 affright 
 
 'Midst the boom and dash of surges underneath an ebon 
 sky. 
 
 As the hapless people wakened, God of Mercy ! but 
 to die ! 
 
 Life is sweet ! veil, veil the anguish of that black 
 tumultous hour 
 
 When the might of man was baffled by the elements' 
 grim power. 
 
 Oh ! in thought we turn back shuddering ; we can only 
 pray and weep 
 
 For the desolate survivors, with their grief for tears too 
 deep. 
 
 May God help them, and God spare us from the passion- 
 ate, keen pain 
 
 Of the ceaseless, hopeless yearning for the loved and 
 lost again ! 
 
 May this mystery of suffering urge us onward by its smart 
 
 Towards the Home that lies before us, where they meet 
 but do not part ! 
 
44 Emilie's Story of the Wreck of the " Wairarapa ' 
 
 All New Zealand thrills with pity, many hearts love's 
 
 vigil keep, 
 While the coastal billows' foam-wreath over those who 
 
 dreamless sleep, 
 Like the immortelles of grief, shall lie around the 
 
 Miner's Head 
 Until the dawning of the day when the sea gives up 
 
 her dead. 
 
 EMILIE'S STORY OF THE WRECK OF THE 
 'WAIRARAPA.' 
 
 On the twenty-eighth October, in the year o' ninety-four. 
 We were in the Wairarapa off New Zealand's nor'-east 
 
 shore. 
 All day long the fog had wrapped us, but we leaned, as 
 
 lands-folk must. 
 On the knowledge of the captain, who had all our lives 
 
 in trust ; 
 Even when the gloom of evening — darksome ally of 
 
 the fog — 
 Rolled its serried cohorts round us, and they steered us 
 
 by the log. 
 Thirteen and a half knots making. Onward, onward 
 
 through the brine 
 Ran the gallant Wairarapa, best boat of the Union line. 
 She was built in Denny's shipyard far away upon the 
 
 Clyde, 
 Where Dumbarton's rock and castle stand in age-defying 
 
 pride. 
 
Emilie's Story of the Wreck of the ' Wairarapa ' 45 
 
 Like a fair sea-bride she glided safely o'er the pathless 
 
 blue, 
 To the shores of brighter Britain, first in eighteen 
 
 eighty-two : 
 Sister to the MatiafouH — household names to high and 
 
 low, 
 Where the daily papers carry dates of the ' U.S.S. Co.' 
 We were due in Auckland Harbour on that foggy Sunday 
 
 night. 
 Hoped to wake at Queen Street jetty with the early 
 
 morning's light. 
 Some were singing on the steamer well-known words to 
 
 well-known air, 
 ' Shall we gather at the river?' who are now safe gathered 
 
 there. 
 Laura Flavell shared my cabin with her comrade Annette 
 
 Paul, 
 And at midnight from our slumbers we were startled, 
 
 one and all, 
 By a crash which stopped the heart-beat ! ' A\1iat has 
 
 happened ?' is the cry. 
 ' Do not be afraid,' said Laura ; ' we are both prepared 
 
 to die. 
 God our Father will watch o'er us.' Then the Army 
 
 lassie prayed, 
 Braced us for the unknown danger, like a soldier un- 
 dismayed. 
 And we struggled up to main-deck, through the awful 
 
 midnight gloom, 
 While the Army lassie's chorus rose above the breakers' 
 
 boom ; 
 
46 Emilie's Story of the Wreck of the ' Wairarapa ' 
 
 Clinging fast to iron stanchions, face to face with Death 
 
 at last, 
 Listening to the cries of anguish heard above the shriek- 
 ing blast ! 
 Helpless lay the stranded vessel, listing awfully to port — 
 Horses, children, men and women victims for the wild 
 
 waves' sport. 
 Oh, that long, long night of terror, every nerve and 
 
 muscle strained. 
 Drenched with salt spray, fiercely holding the precarious 
 
 footing gained ! 
 Oh, the breaking of the gray dawn ! Oh, the death 
 
 freight of the sea ! 
 Woe, instead of joyous welcome ; wailing in the place 
 
 of glee ! 
 Oh, the glooming of the gray rock, where the billows 
 
 thunder loud ! 
 Oh, the bonnie and the blooming with the sea-weed for 
 
 their shroud ! 
 Oh, that cry, 'Will no one help me?' in a piteous 
 
 mother tone ! 
 Frantic, round her tender infants wildly is her death- 
 clasp thrown. 
 O'er the boiling, surging waters, see, at last a rope they 
 
 throw 
 To the rocks from off the rigging ; o'er this hne of life 
 
 who'll go ? 
 Oh, the distance was a trifle — like a broad street, it 
 
 might be; 
 But just there the billows thundered in their fury 
 
 terribly. 
 
Entilie's Story of the Wreck of the ' Wairarapa ' 47 
 
 I was first to leave the steamer. ' Oh, do hurry !' Laura 
 
 cried, 
 As I scrambled from the rigging and the Army captain's 
 
 side. 
 ' Now's your time !' the purser shouted, and I caught the 
 
 friendly rope 
 While the wild waves battered o'er me, grudging e'en 
 
 this forlorn hope. 
 I had almost battled halfway — it was slow work, hand 
 
 o'er hand — 
 When at last my right hand failed me, but I heard a 
 
 voice from land, 
 ' Hold on if you can ; I'll save you !' and an engineer 
 
 swam out. 
 But the waves were loath to loose me, at their mercy 
 
 tossed about. 
 Blind, exhausted, I was rescued, and my slumbering 
 
 senses woke 
 As across the angry waters came the other women folk. 
 There I saw the Army lassie, with the voice of prayer 
 
 and song. 
 Lose Aer hold, through tribulation passing to the 
 
 white-robed throng. 
 Yet another, fain to follow o'er the ropeway from the 
 
 wreck. 
 In the effort failed, drawn backward lifeless o'er the 
 
 submerged deck. 
 We were safe upon the Barrier on that tragic Monday 
 
 morn. 
 But surrounded by the saddest, strangest sounds, and 
 
 sights forlorn. 
 
48 Emilie's Story of the Wreck of the ' Wairarapa ' 
 
 Here a mother clasped dead babies to her cold but 
 
 faithful breast ; 
 There, with wide but sightless blue eyes, lay a youth like 
 
 one at rest 
 On the rocky ledge, affording barely room for live or 
 
 dead; 
 While a thousand feet above us sheerly rose the Miner's 
 
 Head. 
 Bruised and battered, nearly naked on that perilous 
 
 margin, we — 
 While the Wairarapa^s flotsam strewed the gray and 
 
 troubled sea — 
 We were saved to reach the city, and the homes where 
 
 dear ones dwell — 
 Saved to shed the tears of pity, saved to breathe a last 
 
 farewell 
 O'er the Wairarapds victims sleeping 'neath the Barrier 
 
 swell. 
 
 HINAKI, THE LAST OF THE NGATIPOA. 
 
 THE ALARM. 
 
 When darkling clouds come scudding up an erstwhile 
 
 quiet sky. 
 The Kea and the Kotoku shriek, for the storm is nigh ; 
 Thus, when a wave of rumour o'er old Totara swept, 
 The women toiled, the warriors danced, who lately 
 
 dreamed and slept ; 
 While here and there, with mystic air, the old Tohunga 
 
 crept. 
 
Hinaki, the Last of the Ngatipoa 49 
 
 The Kai was cooked, the trenches dug, the palisades made 
 
 strong. 
 The Whares thatched, the arrows tipped, while o'er the 
 
 bustling throng 
 The weird Tetere's tocsin wail, adown the Pah and through 
 
 the vale. 
 Swept mournfully along ; 
 
 And watchful outposts on the height, beneath the morn- 
 ing star. 
 Lay listening ; but they only heard the waves wash o'er 
 
 the bar. 
 'Twas in the good and gallant days when Might atop 
 
 would be, 
 And Might (or Hongi Ika) was coming o'er the sea. 
 With Tupara and Toa — ay, forty hundred gay — 
 Mad with the lust of conquest fast coming from the 
 
 bay. 
 To wipe the Ngatipoa from Hauraki clean away. 
 
 THE ARRIVAL. 
 
 In the gray of the dawning, upborne by the tide 
 
 Of the north-western waters, they came in their pride. 
 
 The flower of Ngaphui — Ngaphui the dread. 
 
 With Hongi, the scourge of the North, at their head ; 
 
 As set as the lion when stalking the prey. 
 
 As keen as the wolves of the winter, were they. 
 
 Oh, the dash of the rowers was timely and brave. 
 In their gorgeous canoes on the clear morning wave, 
 
 4 
 
50 Hinaki, the Last of th& Ngatipoa 
 
 When the scores of Ngaphui, with laughter and song, 
 As a great Waka Taua came sweeping along ; 
 But the joy of the demon looked out from their eyes, 
 On the height of Totara, their coveted prize. 
 
 The dreaded Ngaphui urged on each canoe 
 Till they rocked in the shallows abreast Tararu, 
 And the noise of debarking was borne on the breeze, 
 Like Tawhiri Matea's voice in the trees, 
 To the Ngatipo iwi, who heard it afar, 
 And heard not Hauraki break over its bar. 
 
 Arouse thee, Hinaki ! thou Toa, arouse ! 
 Avert the black doom from thy favourite spouse ; 
 Let the wood -pigeon mate with the hawk an she will, 
 Ere the bloody Ngaphui sets foot on thy hill. 
 Sound, sound the Tetere, let offerings be made 
 To Tumatauenga, invoking his aid. 
 
 The tide of the Waihou is but for an hour, 
 
 But once may the Miro hang red in its bower. 
 
 And the fate of thy Hapu is trembling now. 
 
 Like the dewed web of spider, wind-blown, on the bough. 
 
 Be brave, Ngatipoa ! let the Taua arrive, 
 
 Yet dare them to enter Totara alive 
 
 Hinaki comes down from the hill to the plain, 
 Where the clear Kauaeranga winds down to the main, 
 By its margin to stand, and its ford to defend 
 From the passage of Hongi, his false whilome friend, 
 Whose thousands have come by the Pipi-strewn beach, 
 Past the swamp of the Raupo and grove of the peach. 
 
Hinaki, the Last of the Ngatipoa 51 
 
 THE ASSAULT. 
 
 There face to face they stood, 
 
 Those men of might and blood ; 
 
 Drawn up in rank and row, 
 
 Foe glared on glaring foe ; 
 
 While Death, in victor mood, 
 
 Prepared his field to mow. 
 
 Quick hurtling overhead, 
 
 Ngaphui's bullets sped ; 
 
 In terrible reply, 
 
 Ngatipoa's arrows fly ; 
 
 While savagely resounds 
 
 The mighty battle-cry : 
 
 ' Whai mai ! whai mai !' 
 
 The falcon's quarry thou, 
 
 Hinaki, fend thee now ! 
 
 Ngapuhi seeks thy head 
 
 To grace his wave-washed prow. 
 
 ' Whai mai ! whai mai !' 
 
 Hinaki leads his Ngatipoa true, 
 
 ' Whai mai !' his Mere Pounamau 
 
 Swings terrible to view ; 
 
 While Hongi aims, and fails, 
 
 Yet aims his Taupara anew. 
 
 (The stately Kauri pine may breast 
 
 A hundred winters' might. 
 
 Yet 'neath the blighting fire of heaven 
 
 Fall prostrate in a night.) 
 
 The lead of Hongi's Taupara 
 
 Lays on Te Papa low, 
 
 The noblest Toa of his race. 
 
52 Hinaki, the Last of the Ngatipoa 
 
 Who dealt no coward blow. 
 
 Hinaka falls, the leader 
 
 Of the gallant Ngatipo ! 
 
 The fierce Ngaphui, prompted 
 
 By the Atua of Te Po, 
 
 With ' Na, na, Mate Rawa !' 
 
 Springs on his fallen foe. 
 
 Now, by those eyes, and by that blood. 
 
 New might shall Hongi know ; 
 
 The hopes of Ngatipoa 
 
 Low with Hinaki lay. 
 
 Ngaphui pressed. Some fell, some fled. 
 
 None left to- bear away 
 
 Seven hundred corpses, doomed to be 
 
 Vindictive Hongi's prey. 
 
 THE AMNESTY. 
 
 Ngaphui have sung their victor song, 
 
 Ngaphui have danced their Haka dread ; 
 
 And now round their midnight fires they throng, 
 Ngaphui with ghoulish orgies red. 
 
 'Tis hell let loose on the lovely land. 
 Yet are they alert in their devilish glee. 
 
 For behind Totara a little band 
 Remains of their doughty enemy. 
 
 Will they hold, or fight to the bitter end ? 
 
 Aue ! aue ! with a flag of truce, 
 To the fiend incarnate, lo ! they send : 
 
 Totara to Hongi its gates will loose. 
 
Hinaki, the Last of the Ngatipoa 53 
 
 Aue ! aue ! for the Pah so strong, 
 That never a foe had forced his way ; 
 
 Through it Pekarangi's Horo throng 
 To the trench where its Teas safely lay. 
 
 Aue ! aue ! for that Pah was doomed 
 When the grim Ngaphui a footing found. 
 
 Its last hath the weird Tetere boomed, 
 For the Ngatipo from Totara mound. 
 
 They seal a peace by the midnight fire, 
 By the bones of their desecrated dead, 
 
 And the glutted conquerors wreak their ire 
 In insults heaped on each eyeless head. 
 
 THK ATROCITY. 
 
 Aue ! aue ! 'twas a tranquil night 
 
 When the hundreds four of the Ngatipo 
 
 Had looked adown on the quivering light 
 Of the fires that blazed by the stream below. 
 
 Aweary with carnage, loss, and grief, 
 Secure in their truce they sank to rest. 
 
 Ngaphui arose. Like the autumn leaf, 
 Each Ngatipo fell on Totara's breast. 
 
 THE ABANDONED ACRES. 
 
 Skies keep their colour, and streams their course, 
 Though the deeds of men are as dark as hell ; 
 
 But desolate lies Totara Pah, 
 Wahi Tapu, since Hinaki fell. 
 
54 Hauraki, the Ngaphui 
 
 HAURAKI, THE NGAPHUI. 
 
 I WILL tell you in this story, hardly altered from the 
 Maori, 
 How the Chief of the Hikutu, young Hauraki, came to 
 die. 
 Honour looks not on his colour whose life deeds are 
 deeds of valour, 
 For all men are reckoned equally by her impartial eye. 
 
 After fighting at Tumata, Walker gathered up his 
 wounded, 
 And Hauraki came to help him, with thirteen picked 
 Hikutu ; 
 In the Kainga of Okaihau he had left one hundred 
 warriors, 
 As the allied foes, Kawiti and the Kapotai, well knew. 
 
 Kororareka saw Walker and the red-coats steal to battle, 
 With the friendly natives following, to give a push 
 behind. 
 Up the clear Waikare River ; but the wild-duck's scream 
 betrayed them. 
 As the scent of the intruders came toward it on the 
 wind. 
 
 The Kapotai seized their rifles with a sense of coming 
 trouble. 
 And shouted through the darkness : ' Are you Maori 
 warriors ? then 
 
Hauraki, the Ngaphui 55 
 
 We will give you battle here. If it be the English 
 soldiers, 
 We will straightway leave Kapotai Pah for the red- 
 coated men.' 
 
 So discreetly in the dawning all the Kapotai deserted, 
 When their Pah, with all their porkers, Walker promptly 
 took as Utu, 
 
 For the sack of Kororareka, and also in atonement 
 For the bothering and blundering at Te Taumata Tutu. 
 
 When the Pah was duly plundered. Walker followed the 
 Kapotai, 
 Who in full retreat had vanished down the friendly 
 forest shade ; 
 Walker, Mohi, then, and Repa, with three hundred men 
 pursued them, 
 Till they turned and fought like tiger-cats a long time 
 undismayed. 
 
 Then the Chief of the Hikutu, with his thirteen men 
 about him, 
 In a shady path fell foul of the young Chief of Kapotai ; 
 As the first thirteen faced sixty, a most tragic fight 
 resulted. 
 And Hauraki's rifle picked them off, till some began to 
 fly. 
 
 ' Fly away like the wood-pigeon !' cried the scornful young 
 Hauraki ; 
 ' Fly away and feed on berries : I have taken your land, 
 see !' 
 
56 Hauraki, the Ngaphui 
 
 Then a slave of the Kapotai said, ' Hauraki is a noble, 
 Born Chief Te Hikutu, Rarawa, and of Te Ngati- 
 kuri.' 
 
 But out Hari the Kapotai chief cried loudly to Hauraki : 
 ' Swim you away on backs of fish, as there is no land 
 for you here.' 
 And like valiant young heroes then these two Tino 
 Tangata 
 Each resolved to part with life before they gave up 
 honour dear. 
 
 In the very act of loading, Hari fired upon Hauraki, 
 And the bullet passed with swiftness through his breast, 
 out at his back ; 
 Yet he fell not, and, still standing, took another cap 
 and fixed it. 
 While the proud Kapotai staggered — dead — at the 
 ensuing crack. 
 
 ' Thus, I die not unrevenged !' cried the valorous Hauraki; 
 But his strength deserting, slowly he sank down upon 
 the ground ; 
 Quick two men of the Hikutu came to raise their fallen 
 leader, 
 And as tenderly they led him down the forest gloom 
 profound ; 
 
 While the Kapotai with reverence bore away their Rangi- 
 tira. 
 And then rushed, enragbd at his death, upon Hauraki's 
 few. 
 
Hauraki, the Ngaphui 57 
 
 Who, swift turning, fled before them (they were only eight 
 in number) ; 
 And the foremost, as they fled, o'ertook their chief and 
 comrades two. 
 
 Like a father cried Hauraki : ' Do not stay by me, my 
 children ; 
 Only place me in the long fern, and alone I there 
 shall die ; 
 While ye go and tell my kinsman, brave Tamiti Te 
 Walka, 
 Who will bear me hence, and let my bones by all my 
 kindred lie, ' 
 
 So they placed him in the long fern, and then one by one 
 knelt by him. 
 For the last time rubbing noses, as each Hikutu well 
 knew 
 That no braver and no better Maori chief than this 
 Hauraki 
 Could wear the Huia feather or swing Mere Pounamau. 
 
 Bitter tears fell fast, while bullets whistled randomly 
 around them, 
 For the cordon of the Kapotai kept up a running fire. 
 Which returning, quick they dashed through, led by 
 Kaipo and Te Pake : 
 Thus they swiftly bore to Walker their loved chieftain's 
 last desire. 
 
 From the clear ground by the river ail the red-coats were 
 embarking, 
 And Te Waka's soul was troubled when he heard their 
 doleful tale ; 
 
58 Hauraki, the Ngaphui 
 
 When he ran to beg the Pahekas' assistance for the 
 rescue, 
 The interpreter had vanished, and unheard he had to 
 sail. 
 
 For the Kapotai came swarming down the banks of the 
 Waikare, 
 Hotly peppering the departing Waka Taua from the 
 shore ; 
 Safely back to Kororareka went Tamiti Te Waka 
 
 With his friendlies, and the Pahekas who regimentals 
 wore. 
 
 In the thick fern of the forest, one lay lonely until mid- 
 night. 
 And the night was cold about him, for the heavy rain 
 came down ; 
 Still, the wounded warrior died not, though his spirit 
 writhed with anguish. 
 Lest the foe should find him living, and destroy his 
 great renown. 
 
 As he lay he saw the Atua of his great ancestor Toa, 
 And the shade addressed Hauraki in stern accents, 
 crying : ' Rise ! 
 Wilt thou, my descendant,' quoth it, ' here be taken 
 without effort ? 
 In the mind the body's strength is : Te Hikutu chief, 
 arise !' 
 
 So Hauraki rose, and travelled slowly on that dreary mid- 
 night, 
 Till upon the river he set forth within a small canoe, 
 
Hauraki, che Ngaphui 59 
 
 And he pulled towards Kororareka until his craft turned 
 over, 
 Then, with life too quickly ebbing, crept ashore with 
 much ado, 
 
 Where a Paheka relation gladly took him and concealed 
 him, 
 Till brave Tamiti Te Waka came next day and took 
 him on 
 To Okaihau, where the doctors vainly tried to cure with 
 medicine ; 
 From thence borne to Hokianga, whence his spirit 
 soon was gone. 
 
 When Hauraki died, his body was laid out at Wirinake, 
 
 To be seen by his relations, Ngaphui and Rarawa; 
 As they sang the mournful Pihe there, the chiefs rose up 
 in order. 
 And they praised the dead. These are the words of 
 the chief Te Anu. 
 
 Bounding back and forth before the corpse, with spear in 
 hand, he shouted : 
 ' Farewell, farewell, Hauraki ! go on, taking hence with 
 you 
 Hospitality and kindness, generosity and valour. 
 
 None are left behind to fill the place that vacant now 
 we view. 
 
 ' Yet your death was noble, noble ! with your own hand 
 you revengfed. 
 As you saved yourself, without the help or aid of any 
 
6o Hauraki, the Ngaphui 
 
 True, your life was short, but so it is with heroes ; oh 
 Hauraki, 
 Farewell ! farewell !' he wildly cried, in the night gloom, 
 as he ran. 
 
 By the river sat the young wife and the sister of Hauraki, 
 In the darkness weeping ever, weeping soft and 
 silently ; 
 With their nimble fingers spinning the strong thread 
 themselves to strangle. 
 And the flax that they were spinning thus, for tears, 
 they could not see. 
 
 When the sister of Hauraki saw the full moon grandly 
 rising, 
 She broke silence and lamented : ' It is well, O Moon, 
 with thee, 
 Coming back from death, and spreading light upon the 
 little wavelets ; 
 As it reappears, " Behold the moon ! behold the moon !" 
 say we. 
 
 'Grief and pain within my heart are springing upward from 
 a fountain. 
 For the dead of this world come not, they return to us 
 no more. 
 Grief and pain within my heart are springing upward like 
 a fountain ; 
 For relief, to death I hasten, my poor spirit is so sore.' 
 
 Then the kindred of Hauraki barely turned them from 
 their purpose, 
 But the wife was won to waiting for her helpless orphan 
 child ; 
 
Hauraki, the Ngaphui 6i 
 
 While the broken-hearted sister hugged the sharp blade 
 of her sorrow, 
 Till the severed life-cord set her free from all her 
 anguish wild. 
 
 But the wife remained to rear the son for future days of 
 fighting, 
 And she called him Maiki, from the hill where rose 
 the flagstaff high, 
 Even the cutting down of which began the sadly drawn- 
 out struggle 
 Of the war in North New Zealand, which caused 
 Hikutu to die. 
 
 So they bore their chieftain's body to the Cave of Ramaroa, 
 
 In the lonely mountain ranges, thus fulfilling his desire; 
 
 There they left him long to slumber, in the midst of his 
 
 dead kindred, 
 
 While a party of three hundred men Paura Mamae 
 
 fire. 
 
 They were Hikutu, Rarawa, and the Ngatikuri people, 
 And these bravely took their way within the land of 
 Kapotai : 
 
 Paura Mamae they carried, and destroyed the cultivations. 
 Unmolested by the owners, in the forest hiding shy. 
 
 For they knew this was a party of the people of Hauraki, 
 Who were bearing Patu Mamae, and therefore would 
 not fight ; 
 So the Taua reached the very spot where Hikutu was 
 wounded, 
 And they fired there many volleys for the dead man, 
 which was right. 
 
62 Hauraki, the Ngaphui 
 
 Then the Hikutu went backward unmolested to their 
 country : 
 The behaviour of the Kapotai in this was just and 
 good, 
 For it was not fear that kept them from resenting this 
 intrusion ; 
 In respect for the departed, and for grief, aloof they 
 stood. 
 
 When the gallant Hone Heke heard how death had 
 claimed Hauraki, 
 ' Now it matters not,' said he, ' if in this war I'm also 
 slain, 
 For the Ngaphui have not a chief ranked higher than 
 Hauraki.' 
 Let his kinsman's tribute justify, and close this hero 
 strain. 
 
 THE LEGEND OF HINEMOA. 
 
 Hearken, friends, to this quaint idyl. 
 From the love-lore of the Maori, 
 From the ancient native records. 
 Of the maiden Hinemoa, 
 Of the Rotorua beauty. 
 Of the beautiful Wahine : 
 Straight, yet lissome as the sapling 
 Growing graceful by the river ; 
 Hinemoa with the fine eyes 
 
The Legend of Hinemoa 63 
 
 Dark as midnight's gloom unfathomed, 
 While a star of light illumed them — 
 Eyes that drew the gaze of others ; 
 Held them, as the old Tohunga, 
 But in sweeter thraldom held them, 
 By their spell of sweeter magic. 
 Maiden with the midnight tresses 
 Glossy as the Tui's plumage ; 
 With the lithe form and the fleet foot ; 
 With the witching smile revealing 
 Milk-white teeth, 'twixt lips of coral. 
 This alluring child of Nature 
 Stole the hearts of all the young men. 
 Won the love of all the warriors ; 
 Left her sisters of the Hapu, 
 Left her sisters all behind her. 
 While they strove for admiration, 
 She obtained it without effort, 
 Beauty's undisputed birthright. 
 Sunbeam of the Raupo Whare, 
 Queen of maidens, gay, alluring. 
 In a land of merry maidens. 
 Her land called Te Ika a Maui — 
 Where the skies are blue in summer, 
 Where the winter passes swiftly. 
 Where the mountains rise majestic, 
 Where the vales are green as emerald. 
 Where the lakes are gems of turquoise. 
 And the falls shower glittering diamonds ; 
 Where the rivers, like fond children. 
 Hasten toward their father Ocean. 
 
64 The Legend of Hinemoa 
 
 Island home of Hinemoa — 
 
 Where the Bush is grand and gloomy, 
 
 With the massive stately Kauri, 
 
 With the Matai and Totara, 
 
 With the Kowhai and the Hinau, 
 
 With the Rata and the Rimu — 
 
 Twining Rata, drooping Rimu ; 
 
 Densely grown, with Rangiora 
 
 Showing silvery in the distance. 
 
 When the spring winds hurry through it. 
 
 And the Raupo by the river 
 
 Bends its thousand, thousand rushes 
 
 As the morning wind sweeps o'er it, 
 
 When the creamy Toi-toi 
 
 Waves its soft and plumy feathers, 
 
 Downward drooping o'er the Raupo. 
 
 Such the swamps where moorhens wander, 
 
 Where the wingless Kiwis wander 
 
 Through the silent starlit watches ; 
 
 Such the swamps where lurk the spirits, 
 
 Good and evil spirits also : 
 
 So the sire of Hinemoa 
 
 Taught his httle dark-eyed daughter ; 
 
 Taught her, too, the chanting mournful 
 
 Sung to ward away the Taipo — 
 
 Sung to ward away the spirits 
 
 Lurking in the Bush or flax-swamp ; 
 
 For the spirits flee from music 
 
 As the wild beast shuns the camp-fire. 
 
 Such the lore, and such the legends, 
 
 Hinemoa heard in childhood, 
 
The Legend of Hinemoa 65 
 
 In her own sequestered Hapu 
 On the shores of Rotorua — 
 Rotorua famed in story, 
 Rotorua praised in poem, 
 Giving back the blue of heaven. 
 Flashing back the golden sunbeams, 
 Murmuring softly in the twilight. 
 Mirror for the constellations, 
 Southern Cross and bright Orion ; 
 Beautiful in summer moonlight. 
 Fairy, dreamlike in the moonlight ; 
 With its island and its cascades, 
 With its depths and sandy shallows, 
 With its terraces and geysers. 
 With its fringe of softest verdure, 
 Fringe of varied fern and Nikau. 
 In this realm of scenes entrancing 
 Dwelt the maiden Hinemoa, 
 Watched the dawning of the daylight 
 From the little Raupo Whare, 
 Watched the sun peep o'er the mountain. 
 Kiss the vale, and leave it smiling. 
 Glint across the lake and level. 
 Hinemoa heard the birds sing 
 In the Bush all dark and dewy. 
 Heard the shining cuckoo's welcome 
 To the tender flowers of springtime — 
 Pretty Pipiwharauroa ! 
 Fostered by Te Riroriro ; 
 Heard the long-tailed swallow also. 
 Heard the Te Kohoperoa, 
 
 S 
 
66 The Legend of Hinemoa 
 
 In the winter-time a lizard, 
 
 In the summer-time a swallow, 
 
 Say the ancient Maori legends, 
 
 Say the treasured old traditions. 
 
 Hinemoa heard the birds sing 
 
 In the Bush all dark and dewy, 
 
 Heard the Tui and the bell-bird, 
 
 Heard the bell-bird's liquid music, 
 
 Heard the Korimako calling — 
 
 Just as sweet, more faintly, softly, 
 
 Breathed her lover's flute at evening, 
 
 Tutanekai's flute melodious, 
 
 Tutanekai's tribe and people 
 
 Lived not on the ample mainland, 
 
 But upon the little island 
 
 In the lake of Rotorua. 
 
 Tutanekai of the island 
 
 Loved the beauty of the mainland, 
 
 With a love that lives in story. 
 
 But between them lay deep waters — 
 
 Deeps of jealousy and envy : 
 
 For the people of the mainland 
 
 Hated those upon the island. 
 
 Came between fair Hinemoa 
 
 And her lover Tutanekai. 
 
 So the lovers met in secret. 
 
 On this fashion met they nightly. 
 
 When the darkness softly shrouded 
 
 Lake and mountain, rock and geyser. 
 
 Evening's mantle thrown around them, 
 
 Then the quick ears of the maiden 
 
The Legend of Hinemoa 67 
 
 Heard a little strain of music, 
 
 Heard a plaintive strain of music 
 
 Borne across the listening water, 
 
 From the little lonely island. 
 
 (Love, inventive, laughs at locksmiths — 
 
 Laughs at lakes, and every hindrance.) 
 
 P'rom the mainland swiftly, softly, 
 
 Issued then upon the waters, 
 
 With a noiseless, dreamy motion, 
 
 With a cautious, gliding motion, 
 
 Hinemoa's barque of Kauri, 
 
 Braving darkness, braving danger. 
 
 Fear absorbed in love all-powerful ; 
 
 Nightly the intrepid beauty 
 
 Answered Tutanekai's signal. 
 
 But one night the signal sounded 
 
 Often, often, louder, fainter. 
 
 O'er the lake of Rotorua, 
 
 O'er the hushed and listening water. 
 
 Tutanekai watched and waited 
 
 Long, and longer, for his loved one. 
 
 Breathed a strain of dulcet music, 
 
 Hushed the strain of dulcet music. 
 
 Listening for the dip of paddles 
 
 In the Rotorua waters. 
 
 In the lake of Rotorua ; 
 
 Tried to pierce the veil of darkness, 
 
 Tried to see young Hinemoa, 
 
 Tried to see her boat of Kauri ; 
 
 But, in answer to his music. 
 
 He but heard the Morepork, Morepork, 
 
68 The Legend of Hinemoa 
 
 Heard the owl still calling Morepork 
 
 From the dense Bush, from the mainland, 
 
 When, all suddenly, beside him, 
 
 Suddenly, and close beside him, 
 
 On the margin of the island, 
 
 On the white beach of the island. 
 
 From the shadowy Rotorua, 
 
 From the lake called Rotorua, 
 
 Rose the beauteous Hinemoa, 
 
 Rose the dauntless Hinemoa ; 
 
 Rose this feminine Leander, 
 
 Happier than poor Leander ; 
 
 Rose this water-wraith, this vision — 
 
 Fairer than the famous mermaid. 
 
 Like a water-nymph or naiad ; 
 
 Stood before him in her beauty. 
 
 Shy, and graceful as the white crane, 
 
 Beautiful as the young wild hawk, 
 
 By her presence on the island 
 
 Telling more than words could ever 
 
 All the love within her young heart. 
 
 Had it not o'ercome her weakness, 
 
 Overcome her woman weakness. 
 
 Overcome her fears and fancies, 
 
 Nerved her with a desperate courage. 
 
 When her lover's signal sounded, 
 
 And she found that friends and parents 
 
 Had removed canoe and paddles, 
 
 Left her none to cross the lake with ? 
 
 Then the dauntless Maori maiden 
 
 Lost no time in useless wailing. 
 
The Legend of Hinemoa 69 
 
 Quickly made a simple life-belt, 
 Made of empty gourds a life-belt, 
 Girt it silently about her. 
 Left the mainland in the darkness 
 For the island in the darkness ; 
 Boldly swam across the water, 
 Swam across the gloomy water, 
 O'er the mighty Rotorua, 
 O'er the lake of Rotorua. 
 Guided only by the music, 
 Hinemoa swam on bravely 
 Through the dark and heaving water. 
 Till she reached the lonely island. 
 Reached the Rotorua island ; 
 Then uprose before her lover 
 In her innocence and beauty, 
 In the silence 'mid the shadows — 
 Gladly welcomed, fondly vested 
 In a woven mat of feathers, 
 In a mat of golden feathers ; 
 Then conducted to his Whare, 
 His true wife to be henceforward. 
 Drama fair of Rotorua, 
 Drama of the days departed. 
 Of the beauteous Hinemoa 
 And the noble Tutanekai, 
 From the love-lore of the Maori, 
 From the ancient Maori legends. 
 Told by chiefs with tattooed faces. 
 Told by lithesome dusky maidens. 
 Told by youths of manly grandeur. 
 
70 Te Aroka 
 
 Who count backwards in their lineage 
 To the noble Tutanekai 
 And the peerless Hinemoa. 
 
 TE AROHA. 
 
 Oft have I gazed on the lofty Te Aroha, 
 
 Lovingly scanning its conical crest. 
 Dark bush-clad ravines, and steep, rugged inclines, 
 
 Empurpled when sunset was gilding the west. 
 
 Oh, could I picture thy calm, regal beauty. 
 In dignity queen-like, majestic, alone ; 
 
 Delicate mist-veil and cloud-wreath adorning, 
 Rich sapphire the canopy over thy throne. 
 
 Royally decked in a vesture of purple, 
 Welcoming daily the lustrous morn ; 
 
 Ever the same, though wild winds are raging. 
 And storm-clouds of boding tempest forewarn. 
 
 Perfect in outline, pride of the valley. 
 Verdantly lovely, in sunshine arrayed ; 
 
 High elevation, and weirdly deep crevasse, 
 Where waters rush on in perpetual shade. 
 
 Well do I love thee, noble Te Aroha ; 
 
 Fervent emotion thy grandeur doth wake, 
 Charging my bosom with undefined feeling : 
 
 Pleasure and sadness, joy-thrill and heart-ache. 
 
Te Aroha 71 
 
 Why thus attractive, strangely alluring ? 
 
 Mountain magnetic, the charm now unfold ; 
 'Tis not the wealth thou long hast been storing 
 
 Of minerals precious and glittering gold. 
 
 'Tis not the narrow, romantic, lone pathways. 
 
 Leading the ambitious traveller high, 
 Over the rock-face, through dim-lighted woodland, 
 
 Where startled hawks, Moreporks, and shy Tuis fly. 
 
 'Tis not the view of the vast fertile valley, 
 
 Where bright winding Waihou meanders along, 
 
 As seen from thy summit a picturesque landscape. 
 When sylvan choirs warble their sweet vesper song. 
 
 'Tis not the twilight, though often I tarried. 
 Watching eve shadows reluctantly fall ; 
 
 Thou art more grand when in darkness enveloped, 
 'Neath stars, while the night hush is resting on all. 
 
 Much in this life unexplained and mysterious, 
 
 Ever neglected, unnoticed, we find ; 
 Add to the list thy strange fascination : 
 
 The days of oracular fame have declined. 
 
 Yet when by distance and change widely sundered. 
 Nor longer permitted thy proud form to see. 
 
 Aye unforgotten, a chord deep and loyal 
 Shall waken, Te Aroha, at mention of thee. 
 
72 The Thames, New Zealand, and the Traveller 
 
 THE THAMES, NEW ZEALAND, AND THE 
 TRAVELLER. 
 
 Once upon a time a stranger came strolling down this 
 
 way, 
 And, if you will believe it, was just cool enough to say 
 
 This was the bleakest, barrenest, drear, desolated spot 
 That eyes could see, or feet could tread, in all his travelled 
 lot. 
 
 The place was perpendicular, and breathed on by the 
 
 sea; 
 Its people, patient, hopeful, were a mixed community. 
 
 He left this brilliant forecast too, for Shortland and 
 
 Grahamstown, 
 That the mines would some fine day collapse, and bring 
 
 the mountains down ; 
 
 And all the sea-birds therefore get back their territoree, 
 But the nestlings won't be hatched awhile for this gay 
 jubilee. 
 
 A pretty picture, truly, of our social seaside home ! 
 Some knowledge of the classics should be taught the folks 
 who roam. 
 
 Then perhaps they'd give up telling such little tales as 
 
 these. 
 Lest swiftly-moving Nemesis their sorry soul should 
 
 seize. 
 
The Thames, New Zealand, and the Traveller 73 
 
 Well, to resume. The visitor in days of Auld Lang 
 
 Syne 
 Toiled his distinguished self unto the Caledonian Mine. 
 
 The bud had not unfolded then its wealth of wondrous 
 
 bloom, 
 Or shall we say the comet's blaze had not dashed through 
 
 the gloom ? 
 
 Not then the wonder of the age, and not then known as 
 
 great, 
 Though later yielding golden ore in breath-arresting 
 
 weight. 
 
 Up on the barren mountain-side, a dark and dreary hole, 
 Its entrance seemed a home for winds, the sea-bird, and 
 the mole. 
 
 Yet on that seaward mountain-side, through that low 
 
 dirty door. 
 The wealth of Croesus was brought forth as in Arabian 
 
 lore. 
 
 Yes ; through that gloomy portal, and across that mullock 
 
 gray. 
 The shortest cut discovered yet to El Dorado lay. 
 
 The young moon lit the workings and the new moon o'er 
 
 the field 
 Beheld the people's wonder at unprecedented yield. 
 
 Of a ton of molten metal, pure gold refined by fire. 
 Ten thousand pounds per diem, surpassed the heart's 
 desire. 
 
74 The Thames, New Zealand, and the Traveller 
 
 ' Beyond the dreams of avarice,' to use old Johnson's 
 
 phrase, 
 Was the palmy golden output in Caledonian days. 
 
 ' The silver Thames ' trips lightly from the Londoner's 
 
 glib tongue, 
 But ' Barkis isn't willin' ' to have discredit flung 
 
 On our Thames beyond the tropics, where old Taipari 
 
 takes due ; 
 Throw out the Bill in toto, let its D's be one or two. 
 
 So there ! you needn't tell us ; for we quite refuse to 
 
 hear 
 About a ' clammy, sticky, moist, oppressive atmosphere.' 
 
 We wonder at you, really ; why, the record of that mine 
 Wove round us here a halo that for evermore shall shine. 
 
 The wide world cannot beat it, even if it match the same : 
 The Thames became historic in its Caledonian Claim. 
 
 THE CLEMATIS. 
 
 What words are meet to describe the sweet 
 Perfume, or the contour so fine, 
 
 Of each pale bloom in the greenwood gloom, 
 Upon the clematis vine ? 
 
 So rath and fair on the keen spring air. 
 High-born as the crocus is low ; 
 
 With mystic grace in their quiet place 
 Clematis clusters blow. 
 
The Clematis 75 
 
 Bloom for a bride, unshadowed beside 
 
 The blanche of the pearly gem ; 
 Chastely divine in colour, design. 
 
 They glisten in earth's diadem. 
 
 Herald of Spring ! now the birds may sing. 
 
 For joy that winter is o'er, 
 With days so chill, and a glad life-thrill 
 
 Awakes with the blossoms hoar. 
 
 In bright young eyes, 'neath the changeful skies, 
 
 They waken an innocent glee, 
 Straining afar, in quest of the star 
 
 Blooms, gemming some forest tree. 
 
 Through glen and grove of the Bush they rove, 
 Where the ferns grow rank and strong ; 
 
 Then gather and go with their prize of snow, 
 Light-hearted, jubilant throng. 
 
 Words fail to paint or convey the faint 
 
 Perfume, and the contour so fine. 
 Of each pale bloom in the greenwood gloom 
 
 Upon the clematis vine. 
 
 THE MINER'S LETTER, 
 
 Christmas Eve, 1884. 
 
 Old Mate, — With fingers little used to implement so 
 light, 
 I grasp the pen, and leave the pick half ruefully to-night. 
 When toilers of the Bush and mine enjoy a brief reprieve ; 
 
76 The Miner's Letter 
 
 While through the streets, and up and down, the country 
 
 people throng the town. 
 To keep up Christinas Eve. 
 Things aren't looking over-bright down here away just 
 
 while I write ; 
 For we by Fortune, fickle queen ! right heartlessly have 
 
 jilted been. 
 Old mate, perhaps you may have heard how we've been 
 
 duped by hope deferred. 
 The hope that in a week or two we'd reap a harvest 
 
 fair, 
 A mirage in the desert proved — a castle in the air. 
 You know the adage of spilt milk is excellent advice, 
 But after years and years of toil without the handicap of 
 
 vice. 
 To end as poor as parish mice — well, mate, it's hardly 
 
 nice ! 
 My word ! they have been changing years, on this once 
 
 famous field. 
 Since back a quarter and a score, waiting our turn to go 
 
 ashore. 
 We stood together on the bridge, packed in the crowded 
 
 little Midge. 
 The peach-grove spread along the flat, the creeks 
 
 wound through it free ; 
 D'ye mind the log where first we sat and drank our 
 
 digger's tea ? 
 Then following the winding creek, which prattled down 
 
 its way, 
 And with the sun played hide-and-seek 'neath verdant 
 
 bough and spray. 
 
The Miner's Letter 77 
 
 High on the slope, with pick and spade, we cleared our 
 
 twelve by ten. 
 And by the Rata's crimson shade pitched canvas there 
 
 and then. 
 Like mushrooms springing through the green, the white 
 
 tents rose around ; 
 From morn till eve, a busy scene, the valley rang with 
 
 sound 
 Of pick and axe, and jolly bass; for hope was at the 
 
 helm ! 
 To-day there's not a blessed trace of all that fairy 
 
 realm ; 
 There's nothing left of all the grove ; the creeks through 
 
 culverts flow. 
 While English cabbages are raised where Raupo used to 
 
 grow; 
 And we've seen many an up and down, even since you 
 
 gave it best, 
 Of boom and bust, fat calves, dry crust ; now stumped 
 
 up like the rest ! 
 In Tookey's days, bless you, old mate ! we thought the 
 
 Thames would be 
 By this time clad invulnerate in golden panoply. 
 Ah, poor Achilles ! (I mean Thames), misfortune pierced 
 
 thy heel; 
 When will our stranded vessel float again on even 
 
 keel? 
 For ' Caledonian,' ' Golden Crown,' lent but a passing 
 
 light : 
 The ' Red Queen ' and the ' Cure ' have gone back to 
 
 primeval night ; 
 
78 The Miner's Letter 
 
 The ' Bright Smile ' long has ceased to haunt investor 
 
 mockingly. 
 (What batteries rusting lie !) 
 Few are the favoured who can claim ' divs.' from the 
 
 ' Waiotahi.' 
 I doubt not, too, but you have learned of our side-swims, 
 
 old man, 
 From Waiomo up to rough Wahi — Puff ! flashing in the 
 
 pan ! 
 Things aren't looking over-bright down here away just 
 
 now ; 
 But Christmas brings back thoughts of friends and days 
 
 that used to be, 
 When some poor beggar like myself falls into reverie. 
 And so, with fingers little used to implement so light 
 (Denied by miles of sea and land both word of mouth 
 
 and grip of hand), 
 With pen and ink I write. 
 We may not roll in Croesus' wealth, but work for all we 
 
 spend ; 
 Still, money cannot purchase health, nor yet a trusty friend ! 
 Then am I rich, therefore elate, with little need to grieve : 
 Remember me, as I do thee, old mate, this Christmas 
 
 Eve. 
 
 YELLOW KOWHAL 
 
 KowHAi ! Kowhai ! see the yellow Kowhai, 
 Thousand petals falling like Danae's rain ; 
 
 Airily and lightly, in summer brightly, 
 Kowhai ! Kowhai ! upon the battle plain. 
 
Red Kowhai 7g 
 
 Totara Kowhai ! Totara Kowhai ! 
 
 A-blooming where old Hongi and brave Hinaki met; 
 In the Wahi Tapu, sacred to the stranger, 
 
 Ngaphui's bones there, unremoved, lie yet. 
 
 Totara Kowhai, Totara Kowhai, 
 
 Time will break the Tapu, and man will cut the tree ; 
 But we will wander o'er hill and dale and iind thee, 
 
 Howe'er so secret thy retreat may be. 
 
 RED KOWHAI. 
 
 Magnificent in showy bloom. 
 
 All lavishly displayed 
 Down the dim aisles of greenwood gloom. 
 
 Or in the sunny glade. 
 
 The ' fuchsia of the parrot's beak ' 
 
 In vulgar parlance known ; 
 Brazil or bright Tahiti might 
 
 Well claim it for their own. 
 
 Standing with rich effect between 
 
 The trees less gaily dressed, 
 Its countless glowing clusters are 
 
 By their own weight depressed. 
 
 The vivid hue, the languid grace. 
 
 Of tropic life is seen 
 In its voluptuous lovely form 
 
 And listless, langorous mien. 
 
8o Manuka 
 
 The torrid sun, by Mother Earth, 
 Hath offspring like to thee ! 
 
 But Nature works a miracle 
 In this isle of the sea, 
 
 And rears without such fervent heat, 
 Or bowers of serpent guile. 
 
 The opulence that richly crowns 
 Our own New Zealand isle. 
 
 MANUKA. 
 
 Acres on acres of low, hilly, poor land 
 
 Is the Manuka's peculiar domain ; 
 Acres on acres like heath on the moorland. 
 
 White with its blossom, like snow on the plain. 
 
 Acres on acres to battle a path through, 
 Growing o'erhead like the tall pampas-grass, 
 
 Wirily branched with prickly foliage ; 
 
 Woe worth the day when the stranger shall pass ! 
 
 Acres on acres, and acres on acres, 
 
 Fire hath swept clean through the length of the land ; 
 But the Manuka will ne'er be demolished 
 
 Until old Neptune comes over the strand. 
 
 Acres on acres like heath o' the moorland. 
 
 White with its blossom, like snow on the plain ; 
 
 For the fair sunlighted land of the Maori 
 Is the Manuka's peculiar domain. 
 
Zealandia 8i 
 
 ZEALANDIA. 
 
 She's just a poor little, dear little dot 
 
 Amid seas by herself out here ; 
 The old world loveth her, heedeth her not, 
 
 And turns to her a deaf ear. 
 
 Although like an innocent child she cries 
 With pathos, ' Do look at me !' 
 
 Lyndyn stares past her with Sphinx-like eyes 
 Down South to the berg-bound sea. 
 
 If she could perch on a mighty pile 
 
 Of her sins and sorrows rolled 
 Through ages together, reeking vile. 
 
 The claimant her own might hold. 
 
 But she is too young and lacks history ; 
 
 Her Muses unsoiled can show 
 To any new-comer who cares to see 
 
 Her christening robes of snow. 
 
 They listen not to the wooing talk. 
 Of the lone little mid-sea maid ; 
 
 But with lofty dignity past they stalk, 
 In the cosmic grand parade. 
 
 When the bloom of the fruit is gone for aye, 
 Perchance they will term it sweet. 
 
 And dream of the virgin snow that to-day 
 They trample beneath their feet. 
 
 6 
 
82 Allan, the Bugler of the Fifty-eighth 
 
 For her day will come, and the blas^ world 
 
 To the blooming rose will sue, 
 When its velvet petals are all uncurled 
 
 By the sunlight and the dew. 
 
 The child may be scorned, but the woman grown 
 
 Shall avenge these slighted days, 
 When wooers shall kneel at her jewelled throne 
 
 And poets shall sing her praise. 
 
 And then, no longer a poor little dot 
 
 'Mid seas by herself out here, 
 But an ocean queen, she'll abate not a jot 
 
 Of homage from every sphere. 
 
 ALLAN, THE BUGLER OF THE FIFTY- 
 EIGHTH. 
 
 Oh for the pen of Macaulay ! 
 
 For worthy of its employ 
 Is the tragic tale 
 Of the old Hutt Vale, 
 
 And the fall of the bugler boy. 
 
 In early days of our Sovereign, 
 Rose-coloured and full of joy. 
 
 There was need to fight 
 
 For our island bright. 
 
 And need for the bugler boy. 
 
Allan, the Bugler of the Fifty-eighth 83 
 
 The danger that dogs a soldier, 
 
 His slumber cannot destroy ; 
 The Fifty-eighth slept 
 While the Maori crept 
 
 Anear to the bugler boy. 
 
 Adown in the old Hutt Valley, 
 
 The scout was cute and coy, 
 He clove the right arm 
 That could spread the alarm, 
 
 And crippled the bugler boy, 
 
 Who seized with his left the bugle. 
 
 Intrepid and brave envoy ; 
 From the fern so damp 
 All the sleeping camp 
 
 Arose. But the bugler boy 
 
 Would blow no more for the battle. 
 No more for the brave convoy ; 
 
 But what prouder boast 
 
 Than ' Died at his post ' 
 
 Craves soldier or bugler boy ? 
 
 Thus fell as gallant a hero 
 
 As Greek 'neath the walls of Troy. 
 
 The honour cost dear, 
 
 But we cherish here 
 
 The name of the bugler boy. 
 
 The old Fifty-eighth have vanished ; 
 
 Strange hands with that bugle toy ; 
 While New Zealand still 
 Receives with a thrill 
 
 The tale of the bugler boy. 
 
§4 God's Acre by the Sea 
 
 GOD'S ACRE BY THE SEA. 
 
 TARARU, THAMES, NEW ZEALAND. 
 
 With the restless waves beneath it, 
 
 And the dark pines overhead, 
 The path winds up the hillside 
 
 To this city of the dead, 
 Where the loved, the unforgotten. 
 
 From earth's care and sorrow free, 
 Are the mute and mystic tenants 
 
 Of God's Acre by the sea. 
 
 Smoothly there the grass is tended. 
 
 And the oleander pale, 
 With the sombre pine and cypress, 
 
 Bears the brunt of many a gale ; 
 While the fragrant fiow'rets echo 
 
 Sweet, ' In loving memory,' 
 O'er those quiet resting-places 
 
 In God's Acre by the sea. 
 
 When the sun behind the mountains 
 
 Sinks down in his phoenix pyre. 
 In the words of Holy Canon, 
 
 ' Mingled, as it were, with fire, 
 A sea of glass ' beneath it lies, 
 
 Where a prophet's gaze might see 
 Heaven's ransomed hosts assembling. 
 
 Clad in victor panoply. 
 
God's Acre by the Sea 85 
 
 While no human habitation 
 
 And no sign of life are near, 
 But the sound of many waters 
 
 Breaking on the listening ear, 
 With a whisper in its volume 
 
 Of the vast eternity, 
 Till the hot tears dim the vision 
 
 In God's Acre by the sea. 
 
 Sighs may wake, and tears may tremble: 
 
 God is just — His will is best ; 
 Leave thy loved ones in His keeping, 
 
 Where the weary are at rest. 
 Say, in patient resignation, 
 
 ' They shall not return to me j 
 I shall go to those I mourn for, 
 
 In God's Acre by the sea.' 
 
 Look toward the great reunion. 
 
 Drawing nearer each heart-beat, 
 When the loving and the severed 
 
 Never more to part shall meet. 
 For the ancient graves shall yield them. 
 
 Roused to immortality. 
 When the joy of Resurrection 
 
 Thrills God's Acre by the sea. 
 
86 To a Scotch Thistle 
 
 TO A SCOTCH THISTLE, 
 
 BLOOMING ON THE COAST OF NEW ZEALAND. 
 
 Royal thistle, armed thistle, Scotland's emblem dear, 
 Before my mind a vision sweeps 
 Of men who forded troublous deeps, 
 Their standard of the truth to rear ; 
 But, thistle, art not homesick here ? 
 This is no broom-clad heathy fell, 
 Around thee ocean surges swell ; 
 These woods gave not thy Bruce a bier. 
 Yet on New Zealand's sunny shore 
 Thou wear'st thy purple with the regal grace 
 I often marked in happy days of yore. 
 When wont my Scotia's honoured strand to pace. 
 Ah ! dear old thistle, thou art proof to me 
 That independent Truth's at home on both sides of the 
 sea. 
 
GLOSSARY. 
 
 Atu A— Spirit. 
 
 ' Aue !' — Exclamation, e.g., Alas ! 
 
 Hapu— Family. 
 
 Hauraki — Also called, as chief of that tribe, Hikutu. 
 
 Hikutu — A tribe of the Ngaphui. 
 
 Hokianga — Settlement, North-west New Zealand. 
 
 Hone Heke — The Maori malcontent who began the war 
 
 in North New Zealand in 1845. 
 Hongi Ika — The great warrior chief of New Zealand. 
 Huia Feather — A decoration denoting a chief. 
 Iwi— Tribe. 
 Kai— Food. 
 
 Kaipo and Te Pake — Hauraki's cousins. 
 Kaka — ^War-dance. 
 
 Kapotai — Native tribe at feud with Hikutu. 
 Kauaeranga — River. 
 Kea — Parrot. 
 
 Kororareka — Bay of Islands. 
 Kotuku — White crane. 
 Maiki — Flagstaff Hill, Kororareka. 
 Mere Pounamau — Greenstone axe. 
 Miri Miro — Red berries. 
 
 ' Na ! Na ! Mate Rawa ' — Exultant cry on the fall of a foe. 
 Ngaphui — Great Northern tribe. 
 Ngatikuru — Ditto. 
 Ngatipoa — Hauraki tribe. 
 North-western Waters — Hauraki Gulf. 
 
Glossary 
 
 Okaihau — Maori village. 
 
 Patu Mamae— Weapons of grief. 
 
 Paura Mamae — Powder of pain or grief. 
 
 Pihe — Chant for the dead. 
 
 Rangitira — Chief. 
 
 Rarawa — A tribe. 
 
 Raupo — Marsh-rush. 
 
 Tamiti Te Waka (Walker) — Thomas Walker, friendly 
 
 native. 
 Tawhiri Matea— God of the Winds. 
 Te Papa— The Earth. 
 Te Po— The nether world. 
 Te Tauraataj Tutu — A Maori Pah from which the English 
 
 were repulsed with loss by Hone Heke. 
 Tetere — War-trumpet. 
 Toa — A hero warrior. 
 Tohunga— Priest. 
 
 Totara — Deserted Pah, South-east Thames Valley. 
 Tumatauenga — God of War. 
 Tupara — Double-barrelled gun. 
 Wahi Tapu — Burial-ground. 
 Waihou — River. 
 Waka Taua — War-party. 
 ' Whai Mai !'— Battle-cry. 
 Whare — Raupo dwelling. 
 
NARRATIVE POEMS. 
 
BENEATH THE PINES. 
 
 Somewhere beyond the purple western mountains 
 
 Lie gloomy woods of aromatic pine, 
 Where music skyward springs in fairy fountains, 
 
 From wingfed things like voices nigh Divine. 
 
 One bygone day of memory unfading 
 
 I heard that bird-song, till it thrilled me through, 
 Beneath the mystic pine-trees, sombre shading. 
 
 With sunlit vistas and faint gleams of blue. 
 
 The fallen needles made a carpet soundless, 
 Where on and on with noiseless steps we went ; 
 
 Ay, we went on, and my deep love was boundless 
 For her who on mine arm confiding leant. 
 
 Again I see the sunny ringlets clustered 
 About that beautiful, pure, tranquil brow ; 
 
 Again behold, with dewy gladness lustred, 
 The deep blue eyes I sigh for vainly now. 
 
 The birds heard not our accents soft or thrilling, 
 Saw not her blush, nor heard her quick-drawn breath. 
 
 With their wild melody the woodland filling, 
 The while we promised to be true till death. 
 
92 Beneath the Pines 
 
 A sword I wore, and to my land stood plighted ; 
 
 The bugle sounded — could the soldier stay ? 
 Dearly to me the country's wrongs were righted, 
 
 Dearly to me and thee, my blue-eyed May. 
 
 ***** 
 
 Far from the battle, wounded, almost dying, 
 The stranger bore, with kindly Christian care. 
 
 One who for long, but dimly conscious lying. 
 In all the world's transactions had no share. 
 
 Through all this length of silence sad and dreary, 
 No beam of comfort reached my forest flower ; 
 
 She pined and pined in solitude aweary, 
 Then slowly faded in her woodland bower. 
 
 Far in the solemn shade we loved so dearly, 
 She found a quiet rest long, long ago ; 
 
 While on this starry night the ocean clearly 
 Murmurs upon the distant shore I know. 
 
 Yet I, a lonely, heart-scarred exile, wander, 
 
 And mark my shining locks, long since turned gray. 
 
 With eastern morn and western evening ponder 
 Still on the fate that kept from me my May. 
 
 The golden light upon her grave now gleaming 
 Will shortly glisten tenderly on mine ; 
 
 For aye they haunt my hours of pensive dreaming. 
 Those gloomy woods of aromatic pine. 
 
The Test 93 
 
 THE TEST. 
 
 Waiting long 
 For her dear one's slow arriving, 
 Love in absence living, thriving, 
 While her thoughts were far away ; 
 Yet the maiden day by day 
 Lightened loneness with a song, 
 Calmly, bravely, waiting long. 
 
 Waiting long. 
 For the years came, never bringing 
 Him she loved. At last her singing 
 Grew less joyous : had he broken 
 Plighted troth ? Time gave no token ; 
 Hopes and fears alternate throng 
 Hearts thus tried by waiting long. 
 
 Waiting long, 
 Weary of this patience-tasking ; 
 Others came, affection asking. 
 Why should she thus lovelorn linger ? 
 Hymen's circlet bound her finger ! 
 Constancy had needs be strong 
 To survive this waiting long. 
 
 DEMOSTHENES. 
 
 Will ye listen, brothers, sisters, in this aggrandizing age, 
 To a lesson well worth learning from the old Hellenic 
 sage? 
 
94 Demosthenes 
 
 Taught, perhaps, one golden noontide, in that art-realm 
 
 long ago, 
 While his statuesque compatriots were pacing to and 
 
 fro, 
 
 By fair home or pillared temple, and the Agora's gay 
 
 crowd, 
 With indifference born of usage, heard his passioned 
 
 utterance loud. 
 
 E'en the young Athenian students, with but little show of 
 
 grace. 
 Left the study of philosophy for some sweet passing face. 
 
 As the master saw their heedlessness, he hushed the 
 
 fervid strain. 
 To cry : ' Ye men of ancient Greece, there once were 
 
 travellers twain. 
 
 ' Intent upon a journey long o'er deserts vast and wide, 
 The richer man procured an ass whereon at ease to ride. 
 
 ' Then safely on his sturdy mount to issue forth essayed. 
 When, lo ! the poor man walked beside within the grateful 
 shade 
 
 ' Cast by the rider and his steed. The exalted grudged 
 
 to see 
 This fellow walking in the cool, while in the sun broiled 
 
 he. 
 
 ' Both enter on a wordy war, assailing fierce and fast 
 This point : Who owns the substance owns the shadow 
 by it cast.' 
 
A Legend 95 
 
 Forgetting lolanthe's charms, the young men gathered 
 
 nigh; 
 The merchant ceased his chaffering, the buyer ceased to 
 
 buy. 
 
 A sea of eager faces toward the orator turn now, 
 But scorn is in the lightning glance beneath that clouded 
 brow. 
 
 Bursting in thundering irony, ' Minerva's sons thus pass 
 Disdainfully the pearls of truth for the shadow of an ass.' 
 
 A LEGEND. 
 
 From the region of the roses, where the bulbuls sweetly 
 sing, 
 Runs the Jewish legend, beautiful as old. 
 One was called to wander westward, where the mighty 
 cedars spring 
 Through the snows of Palestina, pure and cold. 
 
 O'er the drear Arabian desert, with its Asiatic glare. 
 Where the simoon and the vulture waken dread, 
 
 By bleaching bones surrounded, mocked by mirage falsely 
 fair. 
 Lay the path the lonely traveller must tread. 
 
 So with weary feet and aching heart from day to day he 
 went. 
 
 Till six measures of his journey lay behind, 
 When before him unexpectedly a hospitable tent 
 
 Offered shelter and refreshment, free and kind. 
 
gS A Legend 
 
 Like a sweet foretaste of Canaan in that dry and arid 
 land, 
 There he found a grateful respite from the heat, 
 And in vision saw the hills and dales, and kissed the 
 hallowed strand 
 Where the tideless waters murmur low and sweet. 
 
 Once again he trod six measures — lo ! another tent 
 appeared : 
 
 He was greeted as men greet a trusty friend. 
 Ah ! this legend is a lesson, by diplomacy veneered : 
 
 Can we read it unsuspecting to the end ? 
 
 Yea, O friends, the spikenard lieth in its alabaster tomb : 
 Must its fragrance ever lie concealed, unknown ? 
 
 Are your hands too weak, or will-less ? Break the box : 
 and the perfume — 
 Richer than all Cashmere's roses — is your own. 
 
 DONA ROSARIO. 
 
 THE ENGLISH OFFICER'S SPANISH LOVE. 
 
 I LOVED her so. 
 And now through sunny sweet Seville 
 
 In dreary dreams go straying. 
 The air is calm, transparent, still ; 
 The fragrance floats o'er dale and hill ; 
 The fountains still are playing — 
 Rosario ! 
 
Dona Rosario 97 
 
 And yet they know 
 She's mute as long-forgotten vow, 
 
 The singing bird departed ; 
 The little barge with silver prow 
 Has drifted from its moorings now, 
 And I am broken-hearted — 
 Rosario ! 
 
 Full richly blow 
 The scarlet blossoms ever bright ; 
 
 I shun them, feeling lonely ; 
 The myrtle boughs of green and white 
 Are all defaced by sorrow's blight, 
 For flowerets whisper only, 
 Rosario ! 
 
 Yet sad tears flow, 
 Perchance ease thus mine aching eyes. 
 
 So long, so vainly straining ; 
 The star has set, no more to rise — 
 No dawn is stealing up the skies ; 
 But, ah ! this heart-restraining — 
 Rosario ! 
 
 Love laid thee low. 
 Oh, bitter thought ! Forgive me, sweet ; 
 
 I could not help obeying 
 Impulse which led me to thy feet. 
 Alas ! the Spanish sire's conceit. 
 Thy swift death-doom conveying — 
 Rosario ! 
 
 7 
 
gS Dona Rosario 
 
 'Twas long ago ; 
 Yet even now they fire my brain, 
 His words no mercy showing ; 
 Lived not the man who thee might gain 
 Unless the proudest blood of Spain 
 In all his veins were flowing — 
 Rosario ! 
 
 I did not go, 
 I would not leave the sunny shore. 
 
 Still hoping, trusting, fearing ; 
 Some time thy constant spirit bore 
 Its woes, though I saw nevermore 
 Earth's sight to me most cheering — 
 Rosario ! 
 
 Rosario ! 
 The name I breathe in twilight hour. 
 And 'neath the noontide splendour. 
 Though far from Andalusian bower. 
 And far from antique Moorish tower, 
 Till life I too surrender — 
 Rosario ! 
 
 VIOLA. 
 
 THE ITALIAN MOUNTAINEER. 
 
 Sunset upon the mountain, 
 Sunset across the plain ; 
 
 The waters of the fountain 
 Fall in iridescent rain ; 
 
Viola 99 
 
 Adown the valley gleaming 
 The silver river twines : 
 
 A truce to thoughtful dreaming, 
 Viola, 'neath the vines. 
 
 Sweet, to my suit give heeding. 
 
 Touch lightly the guitar ; 
 And let its love-notes, pleading, 
 
 Herald the Evening Star ; 
 Let time, unheard, pass gliding 
 
 The while thy head reclines 
 Upon my breast, confiding, 
 
 Viola, 'neath the vines. 
 
 Ah, cara mia ! never 
 
 More lovely didst thou seem ; 
 Enshrinfed now for ever, 
 
 My fancy's fairest dream. 
 Ginevra's charms are many ; 
 
 In grace Bianca shines ; 
 Save thee, I see not any, 
 
 Viola, 'neath the vines. 
 
 At church, at market, often 
 
 They speak of maidens fair. 
 Of eyes that glow and soften, 
 
 And braids of silken hair. 
 Then aye will thought go winging 
 
 To where this heart divines 
 The birds are round thee singing, 
 
 Viola, 'neath the vines. 
 
100 Viola 
 
 How often have I pondered 
 
 Upon that happy day, 
 When heedlessly I wandered 
 
 Far from the mountain way ; 
 Until, bewildered, straying 
 
 Beyond protected lines, 
 Dear Fate ! I heard thee playing, 
 
 Viola, 'neath the vines. 
 
 The dreaded bandit proving 
 
 A father proud and mild. 
 My very heart-depths moving 
 
 His lone and lovely child. 
 Beauty and sweetness, blending. 
 
 Sing ere the day declines, 
 Thy lover fond attending, 
 
 Viola, 'neath the vines. 
 
 EIGHTEENTH OF JUNE, 1815. 
 
 Through smoke-obscured atmosphere, war-coursers 
 prancing, 
 
 Artillery's sharp and incessant resound ; 
 Swords from the scabbard drawn, cruelly glancing, 
 
 Cannon-balls ploughing the crimson-stained ground — 
 Such the grim horrors thy dark dawning knew. 
 Eighteenth of June, upon great Waterloo. 
 
 There rode the man whose brief brilliant glory, 
 
 Like some mystic comet, woke wonder and awe. 
 
Eighteenth of June, 1815 loi 
 
 For oh ! but its lustre was fleeting and gory, 
 
 And ever remembered by those who once saw ; 
 The smoke of the powder concealed it from view, 
 It dazzled no more after dark Waterloo. 
 
 And Erin her warrior lovingly claimeth, 
 
 Whose proud independence and zeal for the right. 
 And fortitude dauntless, cowardice shameth ; 
 
 There, equal participant in the stern fight, 
 Was Prussia's redoubtable general too, 
 Hero-triumvirate of grand Waterloo. 
 
 That glorious victory, 'gainst all denying. 
 Still they describe it in accents of pride ; 
 
 The chained eagle pined on St. Helena dying ; 
 And many a lone widow pressed to her side 
 
 The wondering infant, whose soldier sire true 
 
 Would never return from dead-strewn Waterloo. 
 
 The poniard of pain, unseen, piercing keenly, 
 In many a once merry heart quivered deep ; 
 
 Grass over many a grave flourished greenly. 
 
 Where, weary of weeping for sorrow, they sleep ; 
 
 Grief unrelentlessly fair victims slew. 
 
 Their death but the issue of sad Waterloo. 
 
 Yet may our charter be free, independent, 
 
 With ' Live and let live ' as our watchword of peace, 
 Right, all-victorious, maintain the ascendant ; 
 
 Soon may the carnage of dreadful war cease. 
 Yearly thy memory inspiring anew 
 Loyalty, fealty, royal Waterloo. 
 
REFLECTIVE POEMS. 
 
FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 Brilliant diamonds and glittering ore 
 Earth's myriad dayless caverns keep, 
 While azure ocean treasures deep 
 
 Its gleaming pearl and coral store. 
 
 Thousands of lovely flowers awake 
 The early summer sun to greet 
 And yield their odour-offerings sweet, 
 
 While singing birds their nest forsake. 
 
 The tuneful warbled hymn of praise. 
 When crystal beads of trembling dew 
 Each leaf and blade of verdure strew, 
 
 The wind-harp of the greenwood maze ; 
 
 Proud ocean's anthem, deep and grand ; 
 The echoes of the past, that dwell 
 In the low cadence of the shell ; 
 
 The moonlight calm o'er sea and land. 
 
 May charm the eye and please the ear, 
 And oft a noble mission fill ; 
 Bright, restful thoughts as they instil 
 
 Have all their worth, and all are dear. 
 
io6 Friendship 
 
 As blessings with this life to end, 
 Happy the man who values all ; 
 But happier who his own can call 
 
 High heaven's best boon — a friend. 
 
 God-honoured titlC; grand and true, 
 Here from self all thought extending. 
 And each noble feature blending 
 
 ' To gladly spend, be spent for you ' — 
 
 Faint echo of that Life Divine 
 
 Which once its hallowing influence shed 
 Where Palestina's olives spread, 
 
 Where flourished Cana's fruitful vine. 
 
 Self-abnegating, deathless love. 
 With tireless, ever-active zeal 
 For others' woe, for others' weal. 
 
 Ah ! this all cometh from above. 
 
 The pearl and coral, ore and gem. 
 Are richly luminous and rare. 
 Yet not with constancy compare ; 
 
 It shines in heaven's diadem. 
 
 Brighter than aught of earth below. 
 Than Nature's music far more sweet. 
 Pure, holy friendship is replete 
 
 With graces angels love and know. 
 
 Wealth's golden dower how many miss. 
 Yet all through life might smiling go. 
 And pleasure feel, with hearts aglow, 
 
 Could they but claim this unbought bliss. 
 
Midnight Mtising 107 
 
 Misfortune's shadow may descend, 
 
 The rose-strewn path grow dark to view ; 
 With hand-clasp closer, firm and true, 
 
 Nearer to thee will walk thy friend. 
 
 For all the virtues sweetly blend. 
 Right lovingly as rose-leaves fold, 
 This perfect character to mould — 
 
 A faithful, constant, tender friend. 
 
 MIDNIGHT MUSING. 
 
 'Tis midnight hour, and sleepless yet ! 
 Mysterious look the stars, and cold ; 
 The soft gloom cloak, of many a fold. 
 Once more hath o'er the world's heart met. 
 If that heart pulsates sad and slow, 
 Oppressed beneath a weight of woe. 
 Or gaily boundeth free and light, 
 'Tis hidden, hidden by the night : 
 Bright buds of hope, fair blooms of joy, 
 Growing 'neath sunlight, spoiled by blight ; 
 Pure pleasure, with its pain alloy. 
 Come all before the mental sight ; 
 How thought exults in regal power 
 Oft in the solemn midnight hour ! 
 
io8 ' Thine own Friend ' 
 
 'THINE OWN FRIEND.' 
 
 No marvel that I love it well ; 
 My heart the hidden worth can tell 
 Which in this simple phrase doth dwell, 
 ' Thine own friend.' 
 
 When joys take flight, griefs raven wing 
 Its shadow on life's path may fling ; 
 Then welcomely these true words ring, 
 ' Thine own friend.' 
 
 A pledge of sympathy most dear, 
 A star at midnight, shining clear, 
 Sweet anodyne for lonely fear, 
 ' Thine own friend.' 
 
 A clasp that doth securely hold 
 A volume grand of love untold. 
 Fair Virtue in this form behold, 
 ' Thine own friend.' 
 
 The beauty of the sky's deep blue, 
 The sunbeam's warm and golden hue, 
 Meet in this character so true, 
 'Thine own friend.' 
 
 ' Change is the burden of our race ;' 
 The inevitable bravely face, 
 If in thy love hath still a place 
 ' Thine own friend.' 
 
Reminiscence 109 
 
 In spite of care, of grief or pain, 
 A full reward and prize ye gain 
 Who prove what's in this sweet refrain, 
 ' Thine own friend.' 
 
 A title graven, graven deep 
 On hearts, effaced not by death's sleep ; 
 Heaven gave thee, and for thee will keep, 
 'Thine own friend.' 
 
 REMINISCENCE. 
 
 A MUSING fit came o'er me 
 
 In the hour of starlight clear. 
 And the viewless fairy. Fancy, 
 
 With her magic wand was near ; 
 I felt the unseen presence 
 
 Of the wonder-working fay, 
 As the curtains closely veiling 
 
 The past were drawn away. 
 
 With joy I hailed the vision 
 
 Of many a bygone scene. 
 Where light and shade, combining, 
 
 Produced effect serene ; 
 The pictures varied widely. 
 
 But could equally enthral, 
 And memories of friendship 
 
 Lent an untold charm to all. 
 
no Reminiscence 
 
 Rambles 'neath the silvery moonlight, 
 
 When much was said, more felt, 
 As we watched the star of evening. 
 
 And Orion's jewelled belt ; 
 Exciting merry rambles 
 
 In quest of treasures new, 
 By the creeks, where fern and Nikau 
 
 In wild luxuriance grew. 
 
 Anon, upon the bosom 
 
 Of the blue and rippling sea, 
 I saw the barque glide onward 
 
 With its goodly company. 
 Their happy laughter ringing 
 
 Upon the morning air. 
 While blithe and mirthful speeches 
 
 Told the banishment of care. 
 
 Again the social gathering. 
 
 When kindlier beamed the smile 
 Affectionate, as cultured 
 
 Song and converse time beguile ; 
 While through the open casement 
 
 The breath of summer came. 
 Or youthful faces brightened 
 
 By the ruddy winter flame. 
 
 Some unexpected meeting. 
 When joy played hide-and-seek. 
 
 In guileless, winsome fashion 
 O'er lip and dimpling cheek ; 
 
Reminiscence in 
 
 The sorrow-shrouded parting, 
 
 Farewell, bedewed with tears, 
 The fond and lingering hand-clasp 
 
 Of sympathy, that cheers. 
 
 The wistful, earnest glances 
 
 Across the surging deep, 
 The tireless watch for tidings 
 
 That constancy doth keep ; 
 Her sacred cherished heart-vow 
 
 Of ' Mizpah,' breathing oft 
 Like sweet refrain of music 
 
 In echoing cadence soft. 
 
 The dear familiar faces 
 
 And voices to mine ear 
 Love attuned harmonious 
 
 I seemed to see, to hear ; 
 Relived again such gladness, 
 
 And for the time forgot 
 'Twas nothing but a shadow 
 
 Whose reality was not. 
 
 I tarried long, unwearied, 
 
 For the retrospect was sweet 
 By the tide of recollection, 
 
 Whose forceful waves still beat 
 On the shore that gives strange echo, 
 
 Where illusive phantoms glide. 
 Though no life-barque finds haven. 
 
 Or at anchor there doth ride. 
 
112 R eminiscence 
 
 A changeful, varied region 
 
 Where sometimes shadows spread 
 A gloom o'er all surroundings, 
 
 When joy and hope have fled ; 
 As oft the glowing sunbeams 
 
 Noontide refulgence cast. 
 With glory halo circling 
 
 This mystic realm — the Past. 
 
 But Fancy's spell was broken, 
 
 As another geni came, 
 Recalled me to the present 
 
 In duty's august name ; 
 The stars still twinkle brightly 
 
 In the tranquil evening sky, 
 And musically rippled 
 
 A mountain creek hard by. 
 
 Although 'twas calm and peaceful, 
 
 An involuntary sigh 
 Proclaimed regretful feeling. 
 
 How happy moments fly. 
 Yet still may fond remembrance 
 
 A source of pleasure be. 
 When starlight hours or gloaming 
 
 Are spent in reverie. 
 
Comparison 113 
 
 COMPARISON. 
 
 The days of our years, the days of our years, 
 Alike with their record of smiles and tears. 
 Advance and recede like waves on the shore ; 
 Engulfed in the past, we behold them no more. 
 
 And some days are like to the deep sea wave 
 That often caressingly, gently doth lave 
 The shell-strewn sand, and, e'er gliding away. 
 Makes polished and gleaming each pebble-stone 
 gray. 
 
 So glad days roll on o'er the strand of time. 
 When happiness ringeth a sweet, clear chime, 
 And the heart unfolds like some fair sea-flower 
 'Neath the sunbeams that fall in a golden shower. 
 
 But let summer wane, in the autumn eve 
 How sadly the dark sunless waters heave ! 
 Unsparkling and cold they creep in with a moan. 
 And retire, leaving darker each rock and stone. 
 
 So seasons of trouble with sorrow rife 
 Approach in this changeable human life ; 
 The bravest oft shrink from a nameless pain, 
 For heart-wounds may heal, but the scars remain. 
 
 How wildly the storm-winds in winter rave, 
 How sadly they wail o'er the sailor's grave ! 
 When the hurricane rages, 'mid lightning-lit gloom. 
 Oh, many a gallant barque meets her doom ! 
 
 8 
 
114 Self -Communing 
 
 As in the sad night of bereavement and woe, 
 When the mourner his impotent frailty doth know. 
 In the deafening turbulent surge of despair 
 The buffeted soul can scarce think a prayer. 
 
 But, oh ! in the silence of dawning to be, 
 When the sunrise illumines the wonderful sea. 
 And life-full each bright-crested wavelet appears, 
 The glory and gladsomeness banish all fears. 
 
 And such may the morn of eternity be, 
 When the shadows of time and mortality flee ; 
 A life bright, unending as night's starry spheres, 
 Begin when we've numbered the days of our years • 
 
 SELF-COMMUNING. 
 
 Strange heart of mine, light heart of mine ! 
 No humming-bird in warm sunshine. 
 Flitting on radiant tireless wing 
 Where flowers of tropic beauty spring. 
 Could be more gay than oft thou art, 
 My buoyant, joyous, merry heart. 
 
 Strange heart of mine, fond heart of mine, 
 That e'en a look, a word, a sign. 
 Can so with voiceless gladness fill ; 
 A harp whose every chord doth thrill 
 Responsive to a skilful touch, 
 And all its music yields to such. 
 
Self- Communing 115 
 
 Strange heart of mine, sad heart of mine, 
 Who can thy varying moods define ? 
 One hour elastic, bright, care-free. 
 The next a load may rest on thee ; 
 For oft o'er griefs thyself didst make, 
 Poor wayward heart, thou hast to ache. 
 
 Strange heart of mine, weak heart of mine, 
 Unbroken calm will ne'er be thine 
 Till pain and sorrow flee away. 
 And love supreme alone has sway. 
 No cup of joy is brimming here ; 
 This is a restless, changing sphere. 
 
 Strange heart of mine, frail heart of mine 
 The sun must in the west decline ; 
 How transient are the flowers of spring ! 
 The birds of summer soon take wing. 
 Autumnal glories quickly go, 
 And dream-like melts the winter snow. 
 
 Strange heart of mine, blest heart of mine, 
 Formed by the all-wise Hand Divine, 
 To feel pain's smart, yet know love's power. 
 Plant of the sunshine and the shower. 
 Fitted for both, contented rest : 
 Thy Maker sends thee what is best. 
 
 All things are mutable below : 
 If joy-tides ebb, they also .flow ; 
 Ecstatic bliss and numbing pain 
 Perchance thou'lt know, and know again. 
 God help thee bear the bitter part, 
 And consecrate the sweet, poor heart. 
 
Il6 Dreaming 
 
 DREAMING. 
 
 Sleep weighs down the weary eyelids, 
 Silence takes her ebon throne, 
 
 While her thronging voiceless courtiers 
 Fill the rooms whence sound hath flown. 
 
 Gloomy Silence, grim usurper 
 Of the cheerful day-queen Sound, 
 
 Hath in fetters all the vassals 
 Of her merry rival bound. 
 
 Save two active little pages. 
 
 Thought and Memory, who defy 
 
 Every effort made to bind them 
 Into hushed captivity. 
 
 They, unawed by elfin gambols, 
 
 Revel in the court of Night, 
 Waking lute and harp, but softly 
 
 Laugh at Silence' vaunted might. 
 
 Though their footfall no one heareth, 
 
 And the charmed music dies 
 Echoless, I hear them nightly 
 
 As I rest with closed eyes. 
 
 Then such varied charming stories 
 
 Do the merry pages tell, 
 That with bated breath I listen. 
 
 For they please my fancy well. 
 
Rest xxy 
 
 And their words of tender cadence 
 Widely wake, and thrill the heart, 
 
 Where like cooing doves they enter 
 As its portals fly apart. 
 
 REST. 
 
 The moonlighted tide ripples soft on the shore, 
 The hurry and turmoil of daylight are o'er ; 
 Its dull weight of care be removed from thy breast, 
 Kind Heaven assign thee the blessing of rest. 
 
 Sweet incense doth rise on the dew-laden air. 
 The fragrant flower-offering of perfume most rare ; 
 Fair Peace on the brow of tired Nature hath pressed 
 A kiss that hath soothed her serenely to rest. 
 
 Should angels unfold their broad pinions all bright, 
 And swiftly descend on some mission of light. 
 May they, as they hover above thy pure nest, 
 With smiles of affection make sweeter thy rest. 
 
 The streamlet aye runs through the green flowery lea, 
 The river flows on in the dark to the sea, 
 Like thought in the mind, and like love in the breast. 
 Still active, alert, during seasons of rest. 
 
 We shrink from the chill of the grave and the shroud, 
 We sport in the sunshine and mourn 'neath the cloud ; 
 Regreit that Aurora should sink in the west. 
 And yet her departure brings slumber and rest. 
 
ii8 'Good-night' 
 
 In slumber refreshing may night-watches fleet, 
 With dreams of high purpose and comfort replete, 
 And, life's long endeavour achieved, 'mid the blest 
 The laurel and olive crowned victor find rest. 
 
 ' GOOD-NIGHT.' 
 
 ' To each and all a fair " Good-night." ' — ScOTT. 
 
 ' Good-night :' 
 So, hand firm clasping hand, 
 
 We meetly close the day, 
 Unconscious that the angel-band 
 Bend down to hear us say 
 ' Good-night ' 
 In tender tones, or grave, or light ; 
 For in their paradise all bright 
 They never, never say ' Good-night.' 
 
 ' Good-night :' 
 From cot and curtained-bed 
 
 The sweet child-accents come — 
 Tired sprites who love to tread 
 
 Where daisies grow and brown bees huni- 
 ' Good-night.' 
 In rosy dreams each past delight 
 Again will bless their happy sight, 
 So drowsily they lisp, ' Good-night.' 
 
'Good-night' 119 
 
 ' Good-night,' 
 With parent kisses sealed 
 
 Ere nestlings seek to fly ; 
 On tented battle-field 
 
 Sounds like the spirit of a sigh, 
 ' Good-night.' 
 A day's work done 'gainst peaceful right, 
 A day of spreading dire heart-blight. 
 Then War laughs mockingly, ' Good-night.' 
 
 ' Good-night :' 
 The sailor, blithe and gay, 
 
 On Ocean's heaving breast, 
 Calls, as, bedrenched with spray, 
 
 He seeks his welcome hammock rest, 
 ' Good-night.' 
 Ay, mountain waves, loud winds, despite, 
 Perchance aloft the cherub bright 
 Finds music in poor Jack's ' Good-night' 
 
 ' Good-night,' 
 The silver stars proclaim 
 
 In their own grand, soft speech. 
 While woodland warblers frame 
 And utter in the twilight, each, 
 ' Good-night.' 
 With sudden, daring, darting flight 
 From blackthorn hedge to cedar height. 
 They twitter, chirp, or trill, ' Good-night.' 
 
120 Visions of Childhood 
 
 ' Good-night :' 
 In clasp, or glance, or tone. 
 
 As fittest may appear, 
 Love renders to its own, 
 Nor willingly omits the dear 
 ' Good-night.' 
 'Tis evergreen, and never trite, 
 When loving lips or pens indite 
 The courteous and sincere ' Good-night.' 
 
 VISIONS OF CHILDHOOD. 
 
 Visions of childhood, fair radiant glories, 
 Come again, come again, charm me anew ! 
 
 Thoughts of the long ago, fancy-wove stories, 
 Bright fairy flowerets my path again strew ! 
 
 Just like the musical far-away chiming 
 
 Of vesper bells borne over woodland and lea. 
 
 The words ' Long ago,' with a low plaintive rhyming, 
 Half sadly, half sweetly, come whisp'ring to me. 
 
 When the whole world was Eden, a garden of beauty ; 
 
 Life, a long vista of sunlight and song ; 
 The future, enjoyment unfettered by duty — 
 
 Grown-up folk never were censured for wrong ! 
 
Visiojis of Childhood 121 
 
 Later, shy musings of purest heart pleasure, 
 That some day, ay, some day, would doubtless come 
 true, 
 
 When love, so peculiarly woman's best treasure. 
 O'er all would be casting its own rosy hue. 
 
 Time has converted that future to present. 
 
 Years have resolved it again into past ; 
 Shall I confess it all wondrously pleasant ? 
 
 Say young impressions are truthful and last ? 
 
 Yet a real gift is this habit of painting 
 
 What is to come in our fanciful way ; 
 Else would the traveller, depressed oft, be fainting. 
 
 Certain of rough roads and sky ever gray. 
 
 Visions of childhood, rainbow-hued, airy. 
 If evanescent, how bright was your glow ! 
 
 Not a deceiver, but most benign fairy. 
 
 Was Hope, the magician of long, long ago. 
 
 SHADOWS. 
 
 Shadows fall 
 
 On the path where sunshine glowing 
 Lingered once where flowers were growing, 
 Life a halcyon summer day { 
 Sudden on the traveller's way 
 Shadows fall. 
 
122 Shadows 
 
 Shadows fall 
 
 On the face so gaily smiling 
 With a witchery beguiling ; 
 Grief and woe the heart assail : 
 O'er the features like a veil 
 Shadows fall. 
 
 Shadows fall 
 
 When the hours of day are closing, 
 Man from care and toil reposing, 
 Weary frames their strength regaining i 
 Lest we should be sad complaining, 
 Shadows fall. 
 
 'ALL'S FOR THE BEST.' 
 
 In youth's merry morning the mother would say, 
 
 ' All's for the best,' 
 Kindly consoling when things looked not gay, 
 
 ' All's for the best.' 
 E'en though the rain should in torrents descend. 
 Lightning the masses of ebon cloud rend. 
 Trust aye in Providence till life shall end : 
 
 ' All's for the best.' 
 
 Strangers remarked with a moralist air, 
 
 ' All's for the best ;' 
 Like a Will-o'-the-wisp, how it danced here and there ! 
 
 ' All's for the best.' 
 
'All's for the Best' 123 
 
 Ministers solemn exhorted and prayed. 
 Teachers loquacious untiringly said 
 (Though full conviction to me yet delayed), 
 ' All's for the best.' 
 
 Simple the phrase, and the words sounded good, 
 
 ' All's for the best ;' 
 Mere words I thought them in many a mood, 
 
 ' All's for the best.' 
 Trees so abundant like cross-wood they grew. 
 Waiting each mortal the world ever knew ; 
 Faith must develop to accent this true : 
 
 ' All's for the best.' 
 
 Trials must come ere there's reason to sigh, 
 
 ' All's for the best ;' 
 Bright hopes dethroned in obscurity die, 
 
 ' All's for the best '— 
 Uttered sometimes in a deep earnest tone, 
 Uttered perchance in a low plaintive moan. 
 Fruit of experience differently grown, 
 
 ' All's for the best.' 
 
 Truthful confession befitting the wise, 
 
 ' All's for the best ;' 
 Wings for the spirit despondent to rise, 
 
 ' All's for the best ;' 
 Rainbow bright spanning each cloud of woe. 
 Oil in the vessel when famine lies low ; 
 Father, Creator, through life may I know 
 
 ' All's for the best.' 
 
134 Would you ? 
 
 WOULD YOU? 
 
 Would you have Eden flowers bloom round your path ? 
 Would you reap merrily love's aftermath ? 
 Would you live joyously ? would you be gay ? 
 Wed where you must wed, and not where you may. 
 
 Would you drink deeply the nectar of life ? 
 Would you be happy as husband or wife, 
 Laughing at dark clouds on winter's drear day ?' 
 Wed where you must wed, and not where you may. 
 
 Would you help forward the fair foretold time ? 
 Would you hear earth's bells ring one happy chime ? 
 Would you be tranquil when feeble and gray ? 
 Wed where you must wed, and not where you may. 
 
 Then like a garden the desert shall be ; 
 
 Then thou mayest smile at the stormiest sea. 
 
 Drive not the Sibylline warning away : 
 
 Wed where you musf wed, and not where you may. 
 
 TRIFLES. 
 
 Only a little singing-bird on a little swaying bough; 
 Only a little burst of song and a little silence now. 
 
 Only a little wistful sigh for the pale compressed lips 
 
 part; 
 Only a little wave of joy swept o'er a human heart. 
 
Sympathy 125 
 
 Only a little thought of home to a banished weary soul ; 
 Only a breath of awaiting bliss when the years of exile 
 roll. 
 
 Only a little flight of doves 'neath the bright blue summer 
 
 sky; 
 Only a gleam of white as on to their greenwood home 
 
 they hie. 
 
 Only a message of mystic grace for a spirit in deep 
 
 despair, 
 'To plume again its weary wings for the Sinless City fair. 
 
 SYMPATHY. 
 
 It rose on my vision a beautiful star, 
 
 Long years undiscovered, unknown ; 
 Since then on my pathway, though shining afar. 
 
 Its light hath been constantly thrown. 
 
 If its rays were less warm than the sunny day beams, 
 
 They were softer and fairer to see ; 
 Upon my horizon it glistened in dreams, 
 
 And aye grew the dearer to me. 
 
 JBut I knew it a star, and so far, far away. 
 Nor oft mourned the distance between ; 
 
 My bosom was gladdened and thrilled by its ray, 
 Life might have passed lacking this sheen. 
 
126 The Night-Watches 
 
 'Twas dearer to me in its far-distant height 
 Than a diamond liad been in my hand ; 
 
 No monarch e'er owned a possession more bright, 
 Wealth could not its lustre command. 
 
 If sometimes its light showed my pathway all lone, 
 The revealing perchance woke a sigh ; 
 
 But Thought soon again to the starlight had flown, 
 And Regret never mounted so high. 
 
 THE NIGHT-WATCHES. 
 
 A RESTFUL calm appears to reign ; 
 
 The holy hush of night 
 Hath blessed our weary world again, 
 
 And curtained out the light, 
 Stilling the busy din of day 
 
 In happy dreams and sleep — 
 That priceless boon to childhood gay 
 
 And mourners used to weep. 
 
 Yet many aching eyelids wait 
 
 In vain the pressure light 
 Of Slumber to alleviate 
 
 Their pain and straining sight. 
 While faithful watchers by the bed 
 
 With bitter anguish feel 
 That love availeth not the dread 
 
 Invader's wounds to heal. 
 
The Night-Watches 127 
 
 To those who by the couch of pain 
 
 Attentive vigil keep, 
 To bathe the fevered brow again, 
 
 To watch the troubled sleep, 
 To soothe the weary, weary moan, 
 
 To softly combat fears, 
 To sorrow, weep and pray alone 
 
 To Him who ever hears, 
 
 The march of time at measured pace 
 
 Moves joyless, mutely on ; 
 Grief-laden minutes, in their place 
 
 Hours mournful, woebegone, 
 Ne'er halting, pass with steady beat, 
 
 A melancholy train. 
 Night-echoes weird and strange repeat 
 
 Its sole accompanying strain. 
 
 RESPONSIVE. 
 
 Sweet is the sounding echo 
 
 That wakes in the silent vale 
 When the horn of the mountain herd-boy 
 
 Has rung out its wild, weird tale ! 
 Sweet the soft, whispering answer 
 
 Of leaves to the night-wind's sigh ; 
 Sweet the response of the song-bird 
 
 To a plaintive lilt hard by. 
 
128 Responsive 
 
 Sweet, sweet is the language of Ocean, 
 
 The waves in their own dream tone 
 Confidingly telling each other 
 
 The secrets they treasure alone. 
 Sweet, sweet is the thrilling music 
 
 The minstrel's fingers awake. 
 The grand harp's reply impassioned, 
 
 For love or for glory's sake. 
 
 Sweet, sweet are these true, deep responses ; 
 
 But, ah ! there's a sweetness beyond, 
 When the sigh, breathing possible heartache, 
 
 Meeteth sympathy earnest and fond ; 
 When the half-uttered sorrow or trouble 
 
 To the friend proven trusty and true 
 Elicits kind comfort or counsel. 
 
 Though the words be low spoken and few. 
 
 The valley had given no echo 
 
 Had the Alpen horn never been blown ; 
 The leaves had not tenderly rustled 
 
 Had the night-wind not uttered that moan ; 
 No waves to the seashore had whispered 
 
 Had the moon not been powerful and fair ; 
 The harp chords emitted no music 
 
 Had the minstrel's hand not rested there ; 
 The pure gold of sympathy often 
 
 In the heart's mine unheeded remained 
 Had the owner not searched for some treasure 
 
 When the needy one sadly complained. 
 
Desolating War 129 
 
 DESOLATING WAR. 
 
 Whilst around the hearth they throng, 
 PrattHng babes and children fair, 
 
 Whilst you sing the cradle song, 
 Whilst you lisp the evening prayer, 
 
 Father, mother, spare a thought 
 For the woe that war hath brought. 
 
 Think of firesides dark and cold. 
 
 Think of rooms where silence throbs. 
 
 From the dawn till day grows old, 
 Echoing then with heart-wrung sobs — 
 
 Homes that once like thine were bright 
 With youthful glee and love's own light : 
 
 Where the lonely parents weep 
 For the gallant lads and brave 
 
 Who in distant Afric sleep 
 
 In the soldier's unknown grave. 
 
 Ah, the babes they fondly reared, 
 Dying, wounded men, uncheered ! 
 
 While your happy children throw 
 
 Loving arms about you tight, 
 Whispering childish nothings low. 
 
 Laughing, kissing, fond good-night — 
 Merry, winsome, blithely gay. 
 
 Growing dearer day by day. 
 
 9 
 
130 Desolating War 
 
 They were children once, as dear, 
 With life's dawning just as bright, 
 
 Who on field of battle drear, 
 
 None to wish them last good-night, 
 
 In the prime of manhood lay. 
 Till the life-tide ebbed away. 
 
 Though the snowy dove of peace 
 In your household yet remains, 
 
 Cruel vultures seldom cease 
 Hovering o'er the battle-plains. 
 
 Oh, remember sons who fall 
 'Neath the assegai or ball. 
 
 Nor forget the hearts forlorn, 
 
 Parents once by bright hopes blest, 
 
 Now awaiting but the morn 
 
 When the weary shall find rest ; 
 
 For the soldier's kindred pray, 
 And the soldier far away. 
 
SENTIMENTAL POEMS. 
 
DRIFTING CLOUDS. 
 
 Twilight o'er the glen and river, 
 Rose-tints fading from the west, 
 
 Greenwood boughs and branches quiver. 
 Song-birds seek their downy nest ; 
 
 Half unconsciously I shiver, 
 Gazing on your wild unrest. 
 Drifting clouds. 
 
 All the azure calmness veiling, 
 Shrouding all the deep-blue sky, 
 
 Like a phantom fleet fast sailing 
 Mutely, mystically, by ; 
 
 Mournful as the night-wind's wailing, 
 Where Norwegian forests lie — 
 Drifting clouds. 
 
 On, doomed things ! flit onward ever. 
 Rising but to glide from view 
 
 (Like some baseless error, never 
 Hiding long the good and true) ; 
 
 Us from light no longer sever. 
 
 On, and let the stars shine through, 
 Drifting clouds. 
 
134 L'^'"^ " Strong 
 
 Spectral sorrows, grim and towering, 
 Darken life's horizon bright ; 
 
 Airy hopes, at morning flowering, 
 Trail upon the mould at night : 
 
 Still, brave heart, no craven cowering ; 
 Faith's vocation is to slight 
 Drifting clouds. 
 
 LOVE IS STRONG. 
 
 Though mighty barriers intervene. 
 
 Like mountains ever crowned with snow. 
 
 Though boundless oceans roll between. 
 Though broadest rivers swiftly flow. 
 Love is strong. 
 
 Though sun-scorched deserts lone and wide 
 
 May stretch in solitude away, 
 Though Nature's winding-sheet may hide 
 
 Her once-bright face from tearful Day, 
 Love is strong. 
 
 Though insurmountable may seem 
 
 The various obstacles of time. 
 No rolling river fordless deem. 
 
 Nor mountain-crest too steep to climb — 
 Love is strong. 
 
 Hearts once together truly knit 
 United must through life remain ; 
 
Lov& is Strong 135 
 
 Though hurrying years like phantoms flit, 
 With countless changes in their train, 
 Love is strong. 
 
 Ah ! when the pressure of a hand 
 
 Can thrill the heart, nor speech require ; 
 
 A glance, far more than rhetoric grand, 
 Deep, sympathetic trust inspire, 
 Love is strong. 
 
 Nor mountains great nor oceans vast 
 
 Can such heart-union sever ; 
 While vainly blows each adverse blast. 
 
 This heaven-lit flame burns ever — 
 Love is strong. 
 
 A passion deathless as the soul ; 
 
 A bright and perfect golden chain ; 
 An anchor fixed, where never roll 
 
 The billows of a storm-swept main — 
 Love is strong. 
 
 Ay, strong to work and strong to wait ; 
 
 Strong to resist the gaunt decay ; 
 Serenely strong to smile at fate, 
 
 And o'er the heart-realm hold its sway — 
 Love is strong. 
 
 It cheereth hope, to rest adds calm, 
 And wakes a wordless spirit-glow ; 
 
 For all life's ills a sovereign balm, 
 This precious fact so good to know — 
 Love is strongi 
 
136 A ureola 
 
 AUREOLA. 
 
 ' Write me a letter,' someone said. 
 
 I answered ' Yes,' and, lo ! 
 Request and Promise, clasping hands, 
 
 Wed in this sunset glow. 
 
 The tide has ebbed ; the gleaming sands 
 
 Are flushed with ruby dye ; 
 Darkly the far-off western hills 
 
 Are outlined on the sky. 
 
 No fishing-sail o'er all the bay, 
 Nor speck of cloud on high ; 
 
 With snowy flash of widespread wings 
 The sea-gulls homeward fly. 
 
 Beneath the window roses pale 
 Breathe out their perfume rare ; 
 
 And children's voices, clear and sweet. 
 Ring on the evening air. 
 
 Across the meadow green and wide 
 Their small feet, loitering, tread, 
 
 Delaying long as e'er they can 
 Th' unwelcome hour for bed ; 
 
 While lovers leave the crowd behind 
 
 To pace the silent shore, 
 Exchanging vows of constancy — 
 
 The old, old story o'er. 
 
Fated 137 
 
 This sunset hour, this mellow calm, 
 
 Is rife with beauty true ; 
 Write me a letter, sweetheart mine — 
 
 IVe written one to you ! 
 
 FATED. 
 
 He asked her once to wed him, 
 
 But she laughed, and said, ' Nay, nay !' 
 
 He sighed, and sighing left her, 
 To return another day. 
 
 He asked her twice to wed him. 
 But she shook her wilful head. 
 
 Though he pleaded by the living 
 And the memory of the dead. 
 
 He asked her thrice to wed him. 
 
 Oh, she grew so cold and still ! 
 ^^^as it destiny extorted 
 
 From those poor, pale lips ' I will ' ? 
 
 With hand and voice she wedded, 
 Naught else could she bestow ; 
 
 Her heart went o'er the ocean 
 With her love of long ago. 
 
 Now Death has claimed the wooer 
 
 And the half-reluctant bride. 
 And the true love of her girlhood, 
 
 Whom she wounded in her pride. 
 
138 Riro-Riro 
 
 They sleep, full widely severed ; 
 
 Rest far apart all three. 
 Oh, heaven's light is needed 
 
 To illume life's mystery ! 
 
 RIRORIRO. 
 
 A GRAY, gray day, my darling, 
 
 And the wind goes sweeping by. 
 Low sighing through the glooming fire 
 
 And the pine-trees dark and high. 
 A gray, gray day, my darling, 
 
 For yesterday, with you. 
 The sunshine left the mountains 
 
 And crossed the waters blue. 
 
 A gray, gray day, my darling ! 
 
 As I stood alone, alone. 
 Watching the vessel bear away 
 
 The dearest I have known, 
 A cloud came o'er the brightness 
 
 Of the golden sun above. 
 And half the life from pulse and heart 
 
 Seemed lost with thee, my love. 
 
 Thy voice in day-dreams cheers me, 
 
 It bids my sadness flee 
 In cadences that waken 
 
 Alone, dear love, for me. 
 
Mignon 139 
 
 But minutes pass with lingering pace, 
 
 The hours seem come to stay, 
 And Nature's secret sympathy 
 
 Breathes in this gray, gray day. 
 
 MIGNON. 
 
 How shall I tell thee how dearly I hold thee ? 
 
 How shall I prove all my fond statements true ? 
 Convince and convert thee, my sceptical darling, 
 
 Girl that I love as I love very few ? 
 
 How shall I show thee the sympathy tender, 
 Wistful and delicate, hiding from view. 
 
 Yet glad in thy happiness, sad in thy sorrow, 
 Girl that I love as I love very few ? 
 
 How shall I give thee the help of a true heart ? 
 
 How the young life with old courage endue, 
 Right brave for the combat, and bold for the battle. 
 
 Girl that I love as I love very few ? 
 
 Oh, could I shield thee from sorrow and suffering, 
 
 Let one experience answer for two ; 
 Aye stand between thee and the fires of temptation, 
 
 Girl that I love as I love very few ! 
 
 Oh, could I plant for thy gathering sweet violets, 
 Leaving no room for the hemlock and rue ; 
 
 Give thee life's nectar set free from its poison, 
 Girl that I love as I love very few ! 
 
140 The Unforgotten 
 
 Willing and ready all this — ay, and much more- 
 Love makes the loving heart eager to do. 
 
 Vain wishes ! May God in His mercy surround thee, 
 Girl that I love as I love very few. 
 
 THE UNFORGOTTEN. 
 
 I SAT with the gladsome, blithe, and gay, 
 When a silence swept the throng ; 
 
 Not a whisper fell 'neath the magic spell 
 Of a maiden's silvery song. 
 
 ' He was a curly-haired laddie.' 
 
 As the clear notes, echoing, ring, 
 In my heart, a door, half ivied o'er, 
 
 Flew wide, for she touched the spring. 
 
 ' He was a curly-haired laddie.' 
 
 Ah yes ! and again I could see 
 The bonnie brown eyes, now wistful, now wise, 
 
 Now dancing with mischievous glee ! 
 
 ' He was a curly-haired laddie,' 
 And I loved with his curls to play, 
 
 Till I think he knew they were pretty, and grew 
 Half vain, in an innocent way. 
 
 ' He was a curly-haired laddie,' 
 Laid low in his proud young strength — 
 
 So still in the gloom of the darkened room, 
 The restless one quiet at length. 
 
The Unforgotten 141 
 
 ' He was a curly-haired laddie,' 
 
 And my tears fell thickly and fast 
 O'er the boyish head in the narrow bed, 
 
 When I saw it resting last. 
 
 ' He was a curly-haired laddie,' 
 
 Yet he never had seemed so tall 
 Till his funeral day, with the snow-white may 
 
 And violet wreaths for a pall. 
 
 ' He was a curly-haired laddie.' 
 Though the tender voice ceased to thrill, 
 
 I thought with a sigh of the days gone by. 
 Of a grave on the quiet hill. 
 
 SUMMER. 
 
 Golden time, with its scent of hay 
 And winds that wake the clover ; 
 Pale-blue sky with its fringe of gray, 
 Haze o' pearl on the far-away. 
 Sunshine all things over. 
 
 Sunlight flashing on mountain stream, 
 
 Gilding the noisome alley, 
 Shining where river-lilies dream, 
 V.'here weary city toilers teem, 
 
 And o'er the lone Bush valley. 
 
142 
 
 Summer 
 
 Under the weeping willows' shade 
 
 Fjrolic the children merry ; 
 Daringly down the brooklet wade, 
 Gather the flower, then leave it to fade. 
 
 To grasp the brighter berry. 
 
 Faint from the farm beyond the sea 
 The chanticleer's shrill crowing ; 
 In waving grasses to the knee. 
 Beside the creek, the cattle see ; 
 Hark to the lazy lowing ! 
 
 List ! from the upland tinkling bells, 
 Now loud, and then more faintly ; 
 
 Moon-daisies smile on fair, free fells ; 
 
 Ferns gravely bow in lowly dells 
 Where stony brooks sing quaintly. 
 
 In broad veranda's cool retreat. 
 The air with fragrance laden, 
 Where trailing vine and woodbine sweet 
 Hide cosy nook for lovers meet, 
 Dream youth and winsome maiden. 
 
 Oh, golden time ! sweet-scented hay 
 And wind that slirs the clover ; 
 
 The pale-blue sky just tinted gray, 
 
 The pearly haze far, far away, 
 And sunshine all things over ! 
 
Summer 143 
 
 Horizon hills all purple dark, 
 
 The nearer Bush still dewy ; 
 The watchful collie's well-known bark, 
 His struggling flock alert to mark, 
 
 A brief note from the Tui. 
 
 Adown the dusty road the wain 
 
 With groaning wheels toils slowly ; 
 For poor must work, for needful gain, 
 Though rich may at their ease remain 
 And scorn the toiler lowly. 
 
 Yet dear to all this golden time. 
 
 The scent of hay and clover, 
 The church bells and the wedding chime, 
 The landward breath of ocean rime, 
 
 The sunshine all things over. 
 
 THE SAILOR'S TRYST. 
 
 Soon on the boundless blue sea, love. 
 
 The warm-hearted sailor will be ; 
 But promise that you will keep tryst, love, 
 
 In the star-lighted silence with me. 
 
 My hand may not fold over thine, love, 
 Nor those dear eyes seek fondly mine own ; 
 
 Yet in thought will you nightly keep tryst, love, 
 Till the time we are severed has flown ? 
 
144 The Sailor's Tryst 
 
 When the tide ripples soft on the strand, love, 
 And the hamlet is lying at rest, 
 
 With the hills around it on guard, love, 
 Will you think of me then, in the west ? 
 
 At ten o'clock every night, love, 
 Will you promise and truly keep 
 
 This tryst with your sailor lad, love, 
 Though he's far on the billowy deep ? 
 
 And then, when the wind blows fair, love, 
 And the tranquil moonbeams play 
 
 On the grand and fathomless main, love, 
 Your sailor's heart will be gay. 
 
 Or let the Storm-king wage, love. 
 
 Fierce battle upon the sea, 
 I'll ne'er be so fearless and brave, love. 
 
 As when keeping mute tryst with thee. 
 
 The deck of my gallant barque, love. 
 We may not pace side by side ; 
 
 For leagues of ocean and land, love, 
 The truest friends will divide. 
 
 But affection and trust like ours, love, 
 
 Such barriers cannot destroy ; 
 So pledge me ere parting to keep, love. 
 
 This tryst with your sailor boy. 
 
 And my heart at the trysting hour, love. 
 Will grow lighter, though no one will know 
 
 'Tis because my good angel shares, love, 
 That watch on deck or below. 
 
Plighted, yet Parted 145 
 
 And now farewell for a while, love ; 
 
 God bless you, my darling, my pride ! 
 Remember the nightly tryst, love. 
 
 Till I claim you, my winsome wee bride. 
 
 PLIGHTED, YET PARTED. 
 
 That eve adown the hawthorn lane. 
 
 My Gwendolyne ! 
 The moonlight silvered sea and plain, 
 
 And sky serene : 
 Fair stars benevolent above. 
 The atmosphere ecstatic love. 
 We pledged our faith for all the years ; 
 For us the future held no fears. 
 
 My Gwendolyne ! 
 
 Fringed lids had veiled those soft blue eyes, 
 
 My Gwendolyne ! 
 Thy name I spoke, and saw them rise 
 
 With shyest mien. 
 Again I feel the subtle spell 
 That gloaming cast o'er hill and dell ; 
 Once more behold thy love-lit face 
 Upturned with all its floweret grace. 
 
 My Gwendolyne ! 
 
 Sweet life ! the world ! ay, more to me, 
 My Gwendolyne ! 
 
146 Plighted, yet Parted 
 
 My heart is longing so for thee 
 
 With fervour keen. 
 Why was I far upon the deep ? 
 Had I but seen thee fall asleep ! 
 Asleep ? Nay, nay, I do but dream ; 
 Clouds only veil my bright sunbeam, 
 
 My Gwendolyne ! 
 
 The hawthorn lane ? Yes ; but so lone. 
 
 My Gwendolyne ! 
 Unconscious of my bitter moan 
 
 In churchyard green. 
 Thou wert my joys, my griefs, to share ; 
 I would that winter had made bare 
 The hedge of all those blossoms white 
 That breathe of thee and that blest night, 
 
 My Gwendolyne ! 
 
 The plaintive, clear-toned nightingale, 
 
 My Gwendolyne ! 
 With melody now thrills the dale, 
 
 The while 1 lean 
 Against the spreading beechen tree 
 That heard the vows I plighted thee. 
 Oh, love ! my love ! could I once more 
 But clasp and call thee, as of yore, 
 
 ' My Gwendolyne 1' 
 
 How much the heart can bear, nor break. 
 
 My Gwendolyne ! 
 But not till death shall cease to ache 
 
 This heart, I ween ! 
 
Plighted, yet Parted 147 
 
 The flowers, the birds, the stars above, 
 Recall but give not back my love ; 
 And though it aggravate the pain, 
 I cannot shun the hawthorn lane. 
 My Gwendolyne ! 
 
 Oh, oft I wonder with a sigh, 
 
 My Gwendolyne ! 
 Had Death not sundered you and I, 
 
 What might have been ! 
 For our pure love had not its birth. 
 Nor drew its nourishment, from earth ; 
 And, though awhile removed from view, 
 Our troth-plight holds for ever true. 
 
 My Gwendolyne ! 
 
 ' IS IT A DREAM ?' 
 
 ' Is it a dream ?' The words were low, 
 
 Yet oft the accents dear 
 Were gently, kindly cadenced so 
 
 To mine attentive ear. 
 
 Come back again from out the past, 
 
 O springtide evening fair ! 
 The pleasant hours that could not last 
 
 A golden halo wear. 
 
148 ' 7s it a Dream ?' 
 
 ' Is it a dream ?' Again I see 
 The silver moonbeams shed 
 
 Upon the river and the lea 
 A radiance pale, far-spread. 
 
 ' Is it a dream ?' The night was still ; 
 
 Each footfall served to break 
 The charmfed silence on the hill 
 
 And rippling echoes wake. 
 
 ' Is it a dream ?' The tall trees threw 
 Their shadows on our way ; 
 
 And fragrant by the pathway grew 
 White clusters of the may. 
 
 ' Is it a dream ?' 'Twas not, and yet 
 Dream-like it seemed to fly ; 
 
 Nathless, with unfeigned joy we met. 
 Reluctant said good-bye. 
 
 The simple words whene'er I hear 
 In moonlight calm I seem ; 
 
 While someone to my side drawsnear t 
 Ah ! tAen it is a dream. 
 
 ANNIE'S BIRTHDAY. 
 
 The golden sands are sinking 
 In the glass of Father Time, 
 
 And childhood's merry, merry bells 
 Have rung their latest chime. 
 
Annie's Birthday 149 
 
 Her bonny boat is now afloat 
 
 Where deeper waters run : 
 For, don't you know, our Annie 
 
 To-day is twenty-one. 
 
 The years have been the fairies 
 
 That have spirited away 
 The little child, and left us here 
 
 A woman grown to-day. 
 Though we may pine for auld lang syne, 
 
 Alas ! the deed is done, 
 And we cannot keep our Annie 
 
 From being twenty-one. 
 
 Nor would the hearts that love her ; 
 
 Here our weird we each must dree, 
 And a woman's power goes farther 
 
 Than oftentimes we see. 
 Rich be her dower, glad be each hour 
 
 From dawn till set of sun ; 
 Good wishes ! for our Annie 
 
 To-day is twenty-one. 
 
 The sparkling ore of friendship, 
 
 The pure bright gold of love. 
 Fill her coffers to o'erflowing. 
 
 May the smile of Heaven above 
 Illumine bright with silver light 
 
 The journey just begun ! 
 God bless her ! for our Annie 
 
 To-day is twenty-one. 
 
150 Fairies and Flowers 
 
 FAIRIES AND FLOWERS. 
 
 A BIRTHDAY TRIBUTE. 
 
 This little garland, sweet and fair, 
 By friendly fingers twined ; 
 I send with loving thoughts for thee 
 Beyond the ocean broad and free ; 
 And, fancy aided, canst thou see 
 The birthday greeting it doth bear, 
 All cheeringly designed ? 
 
 Behold ! the wreath's foundation green, 
 Ferns from the dear, dear isle ; 
 White jasmine stars 'mongst them behold, 
 Pale-pink rosebuds of waxen mould, 
 Sprays of the soft laburnum's gold, 
 Geranium leaves of silver sheen, 
 Forget-me-not's true smile. 
 
 I've wreathed them well, blooms pure and sweet- 
 Ay, list this secret too : 
 A fairy dwells in every flower. 
 With such a dainty witching power 
 To render lightsome every hour, 
 And all the coming year replete 
 With happiness for you. 
 
 A very lily-handed train, 
 
 Welcome them every one ; 
 With rosy morn they shall appear, 
 
Fairies and Flowers 151 
 
 At ebon night still hover near, 
 And all the twelve months of the year 
 The sweetest ministrants remain 
 That ever woman won. 
 
 Permit me, I would call by name 
 Each winning little fay. 
 Sincerity the ferns amid ; 
 And Purity 'mid jasmine hid ; 
 The rose of Sweetness none can rid ; 
 Joy laughdth in laburnum's flame. 
 That mimic glad sun-ray. 
 
 Within the silvery foliage find 
 Calm Resignation dwell ; 
 Forget-me-not hath its own sprite, 
 From flower to heart oft taking flight : 
 Love, beautiful, bewitching, bright — 
 Perchance erratic, always kind ; 
 You know my fairies well. 
 
 A fancied chaplet for thy brow. 
 From friendship far away. 
 Accept, and lasting be its grace ; 
 Nor mythical the elfin race — 
 Fair maids of honour, to your place ! 
 My princess, onw^ard, upward now, 
 Each added bright birthday. 
 
152 For Somebody's Birthday 
 
 FOR SOMEBODY'S BIRTHDAY. 
 
 He who speeds the planets shining, 
 Safe 'mid pure and pathless space ; 
 
 He who leads the ivy, twining, 
 On the oak its trust to place, 
 
 In His merciful designing 
 
 Guide thee this new year of grace. 
 
 He who built the mountain rearing, 
 
 O'er the clouds ; formed each green dell ; 
 
 Taught the birds their notes endearing ; 
 Lined the lustrous rainbow, shall 
 
 This year, in His goodness cheering. 
 For thee order all things well. 
 
 He who stays the ocean's swelling, 
 
 Drops the benediction dew, 
 Gives the eagle proud his dwelling, 
 
 And the violet meek her hue. 
 The All- Father, love compeUing, 
 
 Daily thy soul-strength renew. 
 
 Like an infant calmly sleeping. 
 
 Like a sea-bird on the wave — 
 Care-free, from each moment reaping 
 
 Gladness, knowing He who gave 
 Past and present still is keeping 
 
 Safe thy future, gay or grave. 
 
You and I 153 
 
 Yes ; I wish thee every pleasure 
 Rose-hued greetings thus convey, 
 
 And to Love's most precious treasure 
 ' Open sesame ' would say, 
 
 Willing thee a golden measure. 
 Dear, upon thy natal day. 
 
 YOU AND I. 
 
 Far away in the south, dear, 
 The hills rose dim and blue, 
 
 As, leaving the western glories, 
 
 We wandered the meadows through. 
 
 The cattle amid the clover 
 Came nearer to see us pass. 
 
 And a vesper song rose upward 
 From the lark hid in the grass. 
 
 We loitered on the bridge, dear. 
 In the shadow of the trees. 
 
 While the flowing tide ran dimpling 
 Before the whispering breeze. 
 
 We lingered long by the pathway 
 Where the eglantine grew wild, 
 
 With its wealth of fairy blossom, 
 And you laughed like any child 
 
154 Yoti and I 
 
 As the nosegay we two gathered 
 Grew for little hand too much, 
 
 While a hundred fragrant petals 
 Floated down at every touch. 
 
 On, where the yellow buttercups 
 Laid a spreading cloth of gold, 
 
 Till the crescent moon had ventured 
 From a pink cloud's sheltering fold. 
 
 Still onward to the hawthorn hedge 
 Went wandering you and I, 
 
 Till the stars were shining o'er us 
 In our dark-blue Southern sky. 
 
 'Tis a poor and outline sketch, dear, 
 Of a bright September walk, 
 
 Minus its sweet addenda, too — 
 Your quaint, informal talk ; 
 
 A clue in the maze of memory 
 To the past as years go by. 
 
 When the walk and talk no longer 
 Can be shared by you and I. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
BURIED AT SEA. 
 
 Lover of ocean waves, 
 In ocean's coral caves 
 
 Sleep thy last sleep. 
 Far in these stormless bowers, 
 Whilst through life's changeful hours, 
 'Midst earth's fast-fading flowers, 
 
 We smile and weep. 
 
 Sleep, lady, sleep. 
 
 Swiftly the good ships go, 
 Winged by the winds that blow 
 
 From east to west ; 
 But thou wilt hear no more 
 Surges that speak the shore. 
 Thrilling in days of yore 
 
 Thy gentle breast ; 
 
 Rest, lady, rest. 
 
 Spirit attuned to bliss 
 As gem to sunbeam's kiss. 
 
 Light as sea-foam. 
 Freed now from mortal mould; 
 
158 The Blind Man's Definition of Friendship 
 
 Raptured, heaven's scenes behold, 
 Pure, bright as pearl and gold ; 
 
 Thou hast reached home. 
 
 No more to roam. 
 
 THE BLIND MAN'S DEFINITION OF 
 FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 He never saw the bright expanse 
 
 Of star-bespangled sky, 
 Or marked the graceful airy flight 
 
 Of singing birds on high ; 
 He never saw the rainbow arch, 
 
 Or curious ocean shell, 
 Nor viewed with reverent tenderness 
 
 The blossoms of the dell. 
 
 He ne'er had hailed day's harbinger, 
 
 The star of early morn ; 
 And never saw the glitter of 
 
 The dewdrops on the thorn, 
 Or the quiver in the greenwood 
 
 When the leaves and zephyrs play, 
 Nor the western sunset crimson 
 
 Fade into quiet gray ; 
 
 The verdant mead, the mountains high. 
 
 The ever-changeful sea ; 
 The floating clouds that shadowed oft 
 
 The heathy moorland free ; 
 
The Blind Man's Definition of Friendship 159 
 
 The butterfly amongst the flowers, 
 
 The fields of waving grain ; 
 The antlered deer beside the lake, 
 
 The pearly drops of rain ; 
 
 The glance made eloquent by love, 
 
 And childhood's dimpling smile, 
 Were each unseen by one who walked 
 
 In darkness all the while. 
 The windows of his soul were closed, 
 
 His ej'es devoid of sight ; 
 As child and boy and man he lived 
 
 In one perpetual night. 
 
 Yet, asked true friendship to define, 
 
 ' 'Tis like the sun,' replied, 
 ' Whose genial warmth and cheering rays 
 
 The blind are not denied.' 
 Though seeing not the golden orb, 
 
 He felt its influence kind ; 
 What grander definition 
 
 Of friendship can we find ? 
 
 THE EMIGRANT'S RETROSPECT. 
 
 A PANORAMA fair and grand 
 Appears at touch of memory's wand, 
 While I sit fondly musing o'er 
 A letter from my native shore. 
 Enclosing Scottish bracken. 
 
i6o The Emigrant's Retrospect 
 
 Passing before me, bright and clear, 
 Scenes to the exile ever dear : 
 A winding verdant lowland dell. 
 Where fair serenity doth dwell 
 Secure 'mong Scottish bracken. 
 
 Noise and din are here unknown, 
 The stones with moss are overgrown ; 
 Yon burn that flows its course along, 
 Aye murmuring its own sweet song, 
 Bedews the Scottish bracken. 
 
 The gloomy pass, the sombre glen. 
 Rocks seldom trod by feet of men, 
 The sloping brae, the dizzy height, 
 That catches first the dawning light, 
 Are clad in Scottish bracken. 
 
 Superior seem their air and mien, 
 Whose lives are passed near such a scene ; 
 The stalwart Gael, who wraps his breast 
 In tartan plaid, sinks calm to rest 
 Upon the Scottish bracken. 
 
 The noble roebuck, bounding free, 
 Wears all the stamp of liberty ; 
 Roams idly through the summer day, 
 Or gracefully disports in play 
 Amongst the Scottish bracken. 
 
The Emigrant's Retrospect i6i 
 
 Perchance across these lonely moors 
 The love of sport the traveller lures, 
 Seen by the red-deer sentry's eye, 
 Who warns the antlered herd that hie 
 With speed o'er Scottish bracken. 
 
 Bright Cora Linn, whose sparkling spray 
 Gleams like the diamond in Sol's ray ; 
 Which either bank with emerald sheen 
 Appears to frame, but, closer seen, 
 Reveals the Scottish bracken. 
 
 His insignificance man feels 
 'Mid scenes like these, and humbly kneels 
 To Nature's God, whose sovereign hand 
 Created Caledonia's land. 
 And also Scottish bracken. 
 
 THE CAPTAIN'S STORY. 
 
 O'er the ocean, out of soundings, 
 Speeds the good ship on her way. 
 
 As unswerving as the lean hound 
 Coursing on the scent of prey. 
 
 On the deck in semi-darkness. 
 
 Drawn there by the power of song, 
 
 Round the captain's cabin cluster 
 Passengers, a motley throng. 
 
1 62 The Captain's Story 
 
 Little for the words of Zion 
 Do the merry worldh'ngs care ; 
 
 Yet with deep-sea camaraderie 
 Lightly ' la, la,' through the air. 
 
 Till the Christian captain, laughing 
 Like a sailor bold and free, 
 
 Stopped the hymn and idle humming 
 With ' Well, this brings back to me 
 
 ' Just an incident that happened 
 In the days which vanished are, 
 
 As I lay to for the pilot 
 Outside of the harbour bar. 
 
 ' Up he came and took possession. 
 
 As we slowly forged ahead, 
 ' " Captain, put a man out," said he, 
 
 " In the chains, to drop the lead." 
 
 ' Forthwith, at his august bidding, 
 There a sailor took his way ; 
 
 Presently we heard his basso ; 
 
 Roared the pilot, " What d'ye say ?" 
 
 ' Back again in measured cadence 
 Came an answer on the wind : 
 
 Was it Cingalese, or Chinese ? 
 English words we could not iind. 
 
 ' Stormed the pilot, grinned the seamen. 
 As he swooped on Jacky Tar : 
 
 " Here, you lubber ! quit this fooling ; 
 Jokes with me can go too far. 
 
The Captain's Story 163 
 
 • " What d'ye mean by such humbugging ? 
 
 By the deep, is't seven or nine ?' 
 Cried the sailor in amazement : 
 
 " Sir, I knows nor word nor sign 
 
 ' " O' this here song. Howsumdever, 
 
 ' La, la,' to the tune goes fine; 
 So I sings, ' La, la, la, la, la,' 
 
 Every time I heaves the line !" ' 
 
 Laughed the passengers that evening, 
 
 Sailing o'er the summer sea ; 
 Brother ! sister ! find the moral 
 
 If one lurks in this for thee. 
 
 THE ROSE PETAL. 
 
 ' Come, tell us a story of ancient time ; 
 
 Come, give us a legend quaint and true, 
 And on silken thread of the smoothest rhyme 
 
 Deftly string us old pearls anew.' 
 
 ' My story is not of the belted knight, 
 Nor yet of his booted squire so brave ; 
 
 'Tis not of gay tourney in ladies' sight, 
 Nor of smuggler bold in secret cave. 
 
 ' In bygone days smiled a city fair 
 
 'Neath a sky of blue and amber blent ; 
 
 Gay were its gardens, the balmy air 
 Of orange groves was redolent. 
 
l64 The Rose Petal 
 
 The myrtle pale and crimson rose 
 
 Graced not alone its terraced hills, 
 But witchingly their charms disclose 
 
 Where shadows fall and silence thrills ; 
 As high o'er all the buildings near, 
 
 A massive pile of age-gray stone. 
 The dim monastic cloisters rear 
 
 Their walls and belfry ivy-grown. 
 A hush lay o'er it all the day. 
 
 Nor open stood the pond'rous door ; 
 No children in its garden play. 
 
 Where many a bud the rose-trees bore ; 
 But some had climbed the old stone wall, 
 
 There blushed and trembled, shy and sweet, 
 As from their elevation tall 
 
 They viewed the narrow gloomy street, 
 Where oft the pretty blossoms saw 
 
 The Brethren mutely come and go. 
 Alike apparelled with an awe 
 
 Which veiled the nature hid below. 
 A grave-browed band of men were they; 
 
 Who passed a quiet, studious life 
 Within their monastery gray, 
 
 Eschewing world turmoil and strife. 
 Its libraries were rich and old ; 
 
 No marvel many a student sighed 
 A dweller there to be enrolled, 
 
 Wisdom and grace to gain beside ; 
 For but a few, a favoured few 
 
 Paced musingly its corridor. 
 
The Rose Petal 165, 
 
 And rarely there did accent new 
 
 Join vesper hymn and heavenward soar. 
 * * * ♦ » 
 
 'Tis after sunset : shadows long 
 
 The cypress-trees and belfry throw ; 
 A nightingale's sweet mournful song 
 
 Is heard, while stars and fire-flies glow. 
 With hasty strides a handsome youth 
 
 Approaches, and upon the door 
 Knocks long and loud, as if in sooth 
 
 A warrant from the King he bore. 
 An agbd porter opes with care ; 
 
 The stranger, with entreating mien. 
 Craves entrance and enrolment there 
 
 With ardour passionate and keen. 
 The old man wears a dubious face, 
 
 Then noiselessly within retreats. 
 The suppliant still maintains his place, 
 
 But anxiously his young heart beats — 
 Accepted or refused his prayer ? 
 
 The porter comes with measured tread, 
 An answer bearing with due care 
 
 (The night breeze stirred the roses red) 
 On parchment page. In silence still 
 
 He raised a crystal goblet clear. 
 Brimmed from the sparkling mountain rill, 
 
 Too full to hold another tear. 
 The stranger checked a rising moan. 
 
 But sadly drooped his noble head, 
 When, fluttering on the steps of stone, 
 
 A death-doomed rosy petal bled. 
 
i66 The Rose Petal 
 
 As quick as thought he caught it up, 
 
 And with a sweet ingenuous smile 
 Placed it upon the brimming cup. 
 
 The old man, wondering, gazed meanwhile ; 
 For not one limpid drop o'erflowed. 
 
 Yet there the petal floating was. 
 The act such quick perception showed, 
 
 It gained him entrance and applause. 
 They passed away ; things mundane must — 
 
 That house, those men of long ago, 
 From dust returned again to dust. 
 
 Have ages past been lying low. 
 Yet while there blooms the myrtle pale, 
 
 Young hearts may love to ponder o'er 
 This rosy Continental tale. 
 
 Found amidst old monastic lore. 
 
 ' And this is a story of ancient time, 
 And this is a record both quaint and true; 
 
 And thus and thus on the thread of rhyme 
 I've deftly strung the old pearls anew.' 
 
 THE BARGE BIER. 
 
 Slow through the blue waves gliding to fair Italia's shore, 
 A barge steers onward, freighted as ne'er was baige 
 
 before — 
 From Island Ischia steering, a city fair laid low 
 In mournful desolation by one tremendous blow : 
 
The Barge Bier 167 
 
 Smiled on by skies sun-radiant, kissed by the rippling sea, 
 By aromatic breezes fanned, softly, dreamily. 
 The home of mirth and music, of hearts and voices gay. 
 Was sunny Southern Ischia, a realm 'neath summer's 
 
 sway. 
 Until, without a warning, her night of doom came round. 
 And Ischia fell in ruins, while earthquake shook the 
 
 ground. 
 The halls and marble pillars, the lofty towers and domes. 
 Fair palaces, foul prisons, rich men's and beggars' 
 
 homes — 
 All rocking, reeling, crashing, chaotic, awful scene 
 Of ruin and destruction, where gaiety had been. 
 But, oh, the groan of anguish, the wail of human woe, 
 That pierced the starry silence in Ischia's overthrow ! 
 For lovely forms and living, the young, gay, fair, and 
 
 bold, 
 Lay bleeding, mangled, dying, in agonies untold : 
 The husband fond and tender, the gentle, clinging wife. 
 The maiden and the stripling, and those of flickering life, 
 The father and the mother, the little children dear ; 
 For Ischia's hapless infants blush not to drop a tear — 
 All buried in the ruins of Ischia in the sea, 
 Whose waves all night sobbed round her, like mourners, 
 
 drearily. 
 A willing band of workers came with the light of day 
 To search the fallen city, from Naples' beauteous bay. 
 And, ah ! methinks the searchers walked with a reverent 
 
 tread, 
 A horror lingering over this city of the dead. 
 They bore the lifeless bodies in barges o'er the tide, 
 
1 68 The Barge Bier 
 
 In holy ground to lay them fair Italy beside. 
 
 And one barge bier had surely a burden sad and fair ; 
 
 A score of infant bodies seemed calmly sleeping there. 
 
 The little hapless children were shrouded for the tomb 
 
 By strangers who wept sadly their early, awful doom. 
 
 The solemn cypress shadows full many an infant grave, 
 
 And still the sunlight glistens upon the azure wave. 
 
 Still glide the laden barges across that rippling sea, 
 
 But Heaven forfend they ever bier-barges more shall be ! 
 
 Thy tragic fate, O Ischia ! shall long in memory live, 
 
 And pity to thy sorrows a kindly tribute give, 
 
 While parents tell their children how angels on one day 
 
 Bore many little orphans at once from earth away. 
 
 HOPE. 
 
 With a morning breeze from the rippling sea, 
 This is the message that bird and bee, 
 Trilling and humming right merrily, 
 Bring me over the daisied lea, 
 ' Hope on, hope ever.' 
 
 This is the message that bird and flower, 
 Each so rich in its beauty dower. 
 Whisper to me in the springtide hour 
 With strangely sweet and thrilling power, 
 ' Hope on, hope ever.' 
 
Hope i6g 
 
 This is the message the stars of night 
 On the sky in silvery tracery write ; 
 With a feeling of glad and quick delight 
 I know in the silence, and read aright, 
 * Hope on, hope ever.' 
 
 While the tide of life fills every vein, 
 Hearts throb with pleasure or ache with pain, 
 Sweeter than music's witching strain, 
 Let this be for aye its bright refrain, 
 ' Hope on, hope ever.' 
 
 Why should the heart its grand birthright miss, 
 When a world of beauty and bloom like this 
 Is only a love-word, a letter-sent kiss. 
 Of Almighty affection ? For realized bliss 
 Hope on, hope ever. 
 
 MOONRISE. 
 
 At the close of a cloudy autumnal day, 
 
 From my window I looked through the twilight gray 
 
 To the hills that darkly defyingly tower 
 
 Like bulwarks of strength in that shadowy hour. 
 
 When softly above them the curtains gray 
 Of dark-veiling clouds were half drawn away. 
 Revealing bright Hesperus, luminous, clear. 
 The star of the evening, to sad hearts dear. 
 
170 Moonrise 
 
 But while I gazed on that peerless star, 
 As brightly its tender beams glistened afar, 
 The leaden hue of the sky was gone. 
 And a fairy-like vision before me shone. 
 
 While numbers of vast, mighty glaciers there 
 Gleamed icily forth in the still, cold air. 
 The stars, like diamonds of worth untold, 
 Shimmered through Night's dark mantle-fold. 
 
 'Twas weirdly lovely, this cloudland scene, 
 Enthralling its beautiful snowy sheen ; 
 And, all enchained in a calm profound, 
 The heavens seemed all enchanted ground. 
 
 Yet the picture was but a dissolving view. 
 And it faded away in the sky's deep blue. 
 Where, in silvery splendour, fitly bedight. 
 Smiled, royally gracious, the fair Queen of Night. 
 
 ANNUAL MEMORIES. 
 
 ' Just a year ago to-day !' 
 
 Was my earliest waking thought ; 
 How the bright hours fled away, 
 
 All with joy and pleasure fraught ! 
 Morning — meeting, sunshine, gladness ; 
 Evening — parting, shadows, sadness. 
 
Annual Memories 171 
 
 Just a year ago to-day 
 
 Kind looks and voices sweet, 
 Congenial friendship, banter gay, 
 
 Made time unnoticed fleet — 
 Sunbeams glinting on the laving 
 Stream o'erhung by branches waving. 
 
 Just a year ago to-day 
 
 We watched a moonlit sky, 
 And o'er it sombre clouds and gray 
 
 Gather, with eerie sigh, 
 Until Luna's gentle shining 
 Lent to each a silver lining. 
 
 Just a year ago to-day ! 
 
 What changes Time hath brought 
 To numbers who, then blithe and gay, 
 
 United joyance sought ; 
 But, severed now, no longer share 
 Rural delights and pleasures rare. 
 
 Just a year ago to-day ! 
 
 How fondly we recall. 
 As circling seasons haste away. 
 
 Life's bright hours dear to all ! 
 [n grief or mirth how oft we say : 
 ' Ay, just a year ago to-day !' 
 
172 Pray One for Another 
 
 PRAY ONE FOR ANOTHER. 
 
 O God, bless my dear one, 
 
 For Thine is the might, 
 With gifts beyond purchase ; 
 
 Shed Heaven's own light 
 Of pardon and guidance 
 
 And peace on her way ; 
 O' God, bless my dear one 
 
 I earnestly pray. 
 
 O God, bless my dear one ; 
 
 May every day bring 
 New graces to view 
 
 In the child of a King ; 
 Give her love, give her hope, 
 
 Give her patience to be 
 With lip and with life 
 
 A bright witness fpr Thee. 
 
 O God, bless my dear one ; 
 
 May self daily die, 
 And 'Thy will, not mine,' 
 
 Bring the Paraclete nigh — 
 Sweet Comforter, with her 
 
 Abiding alway ; 
 O God, bless my dear one 
 
 I earnestly pray. 
 
The Inner Life 173 
 
 THE INNER LIFE. 
 
 The dawnlight first, then sunny noon, 
 
 Rain and a clouded sky ; 
 The shades of evening mantling soon, 
 
 The night-wind moaning by ; 
 The silent stars lone watchers bent 
 
 Above the world asleep ; 
 Of days so brief and quickly spent, 
 
 What record should I keep ? 
 
 Poor Thought, a captive too the while, 
 
 Expression free denied. 
 The loneliness just to beguile, 
 
 Her necromancy tried ; 
 And summoned back fair vanished hours, 
 
 In golden sunshine dight, 
 Blue sky o'erarching rosy bowers, 
 
 Full heart-beats of delight. 
 
 Forgot her fetters, for she lay 
 
 Meantime so 'tranced and still, 
 Their jarring clank was charmed away — 
 
 She seemed to move at will ; 
 Reflected many a smile sincere, 
 
 To accents kind replied ; 
 Stood by the winding river clear. 
 
 And climbed the mountain-side ; 
 
174 ^^^ Inner Life 
 
 Engaged in converse sweet and grave, 
 
 As friend oft holds with friend ; 
 For hfe is transient — weak or brave, 
 
 To all soon comes the end ; 
 But far beyond the dark confines 
 
 Of man's cold narrow bed, 
 E'en where eternal glory shines, 
 
 Was Thought triumphant led. 
 
 No wrong, regret, or absence there 
 Shall cause a tear or sigh ; 
 
 This beacon shineth calm and fair 
 When storm-waves billow high. 
 
 Such musing mine from day to day : 
 
 Dost think me glad or gloomy, pray ? 
 
 FLORA'S SPELL. 
 
 Bring, bring the pure, sweet lily bell. 
 Bring ferns pearled with the brooklet's spray, 
 Bring the red rose and snow-white may, 
 
 Shy violets from the greenwood dell. 
 
 Bring stems of waxen fuchsia pale, 
 Forget-me-nots and daisies too, 
 Carnations bright of many a hue. 
 
 Verbena perfuming the gale. 
 
Flora's Spell 175 
 
 Bring guelder-rose, a mock snowball, 
 
 Scarlet geranium's glory grand. 
 
 The myrtle from Italia's strand. 
 And ivy from the crumbling wall. 
 
 Bring slender bowing columbine 
 
 Pansies with pretty upturned face, 
 
 And, with its own peculiar grace. 
 The English honeysuckle twine. 
 
 Now hie to fields we gleaned of old, 
 While sings the lark far overhead. 
 Bring corn-flowers blue and poppies red. 
 
 And wheat-ears from the harvest-gold. 
 
 Then, from her river-home so fair, 
 
 Dwelling aloof from blossoms gay. 
 
 That lovely fragile naiad fay, 
 The water-lily, gently bear. 
 
 From lonely road and quiet heath 
 
 Bring golden broom, pink eglantine, 
 
 And of the green, fantastic vine 
 Bring, bring a long and leafy wreath. 
 
 Then blend them all, the beauteous flowers 
 From field and garden, stream and vale ; 
 Contrast their colours, rich and pale. 
 
 And homage yield to Flora's powers. 
 
176 Mystic Messengers 
 
 MYSTIC MESSENGERS. 
 
 Oh, rarely welcome lovely flowers, 
 With dark -green leaves and petals bright, 
 
 To one who through no garden bowers 
 Can wander now with keen delight. 
 
 Roses of perfect form, rich hue. 
 Fink and carmine, damask, gold ; 
 
 Shy snowy buds just peeping through 
 Their graceful moss-veil's parted fold. 
 
 Dark dewy violets that bring 
 
 Again by their dear perfume back 
 
 Thoughts of many a deep joy-spring. 
 Clear-welling by life's dusty track. 
 
 And gracing all the fragrant bloom. 
 Their lace-like fronds set round. 
 
 Ferns gathered from the woodland gloom. 
 In loved seclusion found. 
 
 Thus safely mile on mile conveyed, 
 Pure, fragile, scented treasures here — 
 
 In peerless beauty fair arrayed. 
 With potency the heart to cheer. 
 
 Now to the languid evening air 
 Your sweet life-breathings lend. 
 
 An influence refined and rare. 
 While starlight dews descend. 
 
Commonplaces ijy 
 
 Fragrance and loveliness combined. 
 Both felt and valued words beyond ; 
 
 Still more than these in thee I find, 
 Sweet floral tribute — friendship fond. 
 
 COMMONPLACES. 
 
 Oh dear ! oh dear ! when out walking to-day 
 I happened to meet a friend by the way ; 
 My cheeks grew crimson, I felt them glow ; 
 But it wasn't that which vexed me so. 
 
 I paused, so he bowed and raised his hat. 
 Shook hands, and stood for a minute's chat ; 
 But although a deal I wanted to say. 
 My thoughts all suddenly flew away. 
 
 The sky was deep blue, and bright sunshine lay 
 Like cloth of gold on the land-locked bay ; 
 The children were quietly busy in school ; 
 The trees in the street cast a shadow cool. 
 
 And there we were standing, oh dear ! oh dear ! 
 What makes one so foolish at times appear ? 
 For all I could say was, ' How do you do ?' 
 And, ' Is not the sky remarkably blue ?' 
 
 I glanced in his face ; with unspoken thought 
 The earnest eyes were merrily fraught ; 
 I grew more fluttered — I don't know why — 
 And wished him a very brief good-bye. 
 
178 Absent 
 
 Why can't I be calmly composed when I please, 
 And act like a rational mortal at ease ? 
 He was nearly tempted to laugh at me there ; 
 It's very provoking, I sadly declare. 
 
 The heart 'neath my cloak, the brain 'neath my hat, 
 
 In unison throbbed and went pit-a-pat ; 
 
 For I felt so much, but he didn't know, 
 
 And thought, ' What a goose she is !' — heigho ! 
 
 But little's the good to sigh or fret; 
 
 For if to-morrow again we met, 
 
 I suppose, after shaking hands together, 
 
 I'd surely exclaim, ' What beautiful weather !' 
 
 ABSENT. 
 
 To-night it rose in sweetness, 
 
 The sacred evening song, 
 Harmonious the completeness 
 
 Of words both sweet and strong. 
 But sudden thought came, bringing 
 
 A shadow o'er my heart : 
 A silence in the singing — 
 
 One voice sustained no part. 
 
 A strangely dreary feeling 
 Does absence often make, 
 
 When sombre thoughts, joy stealing, 
 Occasion sad heartache. 
 
The Two Cities 179 
 
 The heart grows glad or lonely, 
 
 Will sorrow or rejoice, 
 Kt sound or silence only 
 
 Of one familiar voice. 
 
 THE TWO CITIES. 
 
 Oh, the city was sunlit, the city was grand, 
 
 And a varied hurrying throng 
 Down its ample streets to the busy strand 
 
 Were talking and hastening along. 
 
 And the faces ! Ah ! mostly the stranger met 
 
 But, in passing, a quiet stare, 
 Or not even a look — and yet, and yet, 
 
 They were brothers and sisters fair ! 
 
 But all so eagerly pressing on, 
 
 For pleasure, or profit, or pelf ; 
 And on many a brow, as God's sunlight shone, 
 
 Was revealed a dark brand. Self. 
 
 The banker and the merchant prince drew nigh, 
 
 The lord and the titled peer ; 
 In her carriage the duchess proud went by. 
 
 Gazed on with a smile or a sneer. 
 
 The sailor ashore, who had wondering seen 
 
 The lovely Auroral glow. 
 Dense tropical forests and islands green, 
 
 With a coral base below ; 
 
i8o The Two Cities 
 
 The soldier, who often alert had stood 
 
 In the bitter winter night, 
 By the dreary plain or lurking wood. 
 
 On the eve of the direful fight ; 
 
 The pensive student, the artist pale. 
 
 The toiling, tired artizan. 
 The rustic, just come from his native dale, 
 
 And crowds 'neath society's ban — 
 
 All eagerly hurrying, pressing on. 
 
 For pleasure, or profit, or pelf ; 
 And many a brow, where the sunlight shone, 
 
 Was marred with that brand of Self. 
 
 And so from the city I hastened away, 
 For a weight oppressed my heart ; 
 
 At the smile of its mirthful, the laugh of its gay, 
 I felt as if tears would start. 
 
 To a widely different scene I fled, 
 
 To the silent city's calm ; 
 Where, emblem of life, the acacia spread. 
 
 And blossoms exhaled sweet balm. 
 
 It was thronged as the other city had been : 
 All hurried there, here all reposed ; 
 
 And many had slumbered long, I ween. 
 While other eyes only had closed. 
 
 Though their lips were sealed by death for time. 
 And their forms concealed from view, 
 
 I learned their ages, names, and clime 
 Of birth ; their virtues too. 
 
The Two Cities i8i 
 
 On polished marble, ivory white 
 
 Or dusky veined, I stayed and read — 
 
 O'er one small grave of Birdie's flight : 
 ' Come unto Me, the Saviour said;' 
 
 And o'er another, violets white 
 
 And sweet moss-roses seemed to say 
 That e'en to sorrow's gloomy night 
 
 Hope's blessed star could lend a ray. 
 
 The carven cross, the dainty wreath. 
 
 Pure buds, dark ivy, lilies fair, 
 Affectionate remembrance breathe 
 
 For dear ones past all earthly care. 
 
 These quiet graves and fragrant flowers 
 
 Beneath the shadowing trees, 
 Were more to me than pleasure's bowers 
 
 Of unreal, guileful ease. 
 
 COMMON-SENSE AND TRUE LOVE. 
 
 Common-sense and True Love 
 
 Met on a summer's day, 
 And Common-sense to True Love 
 
 Half jeeringly did say : 
 
 ' Prithee, any letters 
 
 From dearest dear who's gone ?' 
 ' Told you so,' smiled Common-sense, 
 
 When True Love blushed, ' Not one.' 
 
i82 Common-sense and True Love 
 
 Common-sense laughed lightly, 
 ' 'Tis out of sight and mind ;' 
 
 But True Love answered bravely, 
 ' Wrong, wrong, as you will find. 
 
 ' Dearest dear is busy. 
 And time so fast slips by.' 
 
 ' No excuse,' cried Common-sense; 
 ' You know it well as I. 
 
 ' Dearest dear is fickle 
 Comes nearer to the truth ; 
 
 Hand and glove with someone else— 
 Ofttimes the way in youth.' 
 
 ' Hold ! enough !' cried True Love, 
 ' Doubt dearest dear ! Look you, 
 
 I'd sooner cut connection 
 With Common-sense ! Adieu.' 
 
 TRUE BLUE. 
 
 ' Messmates, the western sun sinks low. 
 The breeze is fresh, the wet sands glow ; 
 Up with the anchor — yo, heave ho ! 
 
 ' Here's to the life of a rover free, 
 The fate that bade us follow the sea, 
 In a hearty British three times three 1 
 
True Blue 183 
 
 ' To the Viking, with locks of ruddy gold, 
 Loud chanting his saga, sage and bold, 
 Over the swan's bath in days of old. 
 
 ' And we are as keen as he to face 
 
 A field where the silver moonbeams trace 
 
 Our only path in the mettlesome race. 
 
 ' Give us our ship, with stays and spars, 
 Towards El Dorado, by heaven's stars. 
 We'd steer with any Cordovan tars. 
 
 ' Then, ho ! my lads, for the dashing spray, 
 With at times ' Avast !' at times ' Belay !' 
 The white sails fill, and she scuds away. 
 
 ' And what if some day we come to grief 
 On the shifting sands or sunken reef. 
 Unmarked as falleth a forest leaf? 
 
 ' With many gallanter crews, I ween, 
 Mayhap we shall slumber calm, serene. 
 As under the churchyard hillocks green — 
 
 ' All in the fate of a rover free. 
 Sailing the pathless, the deep blue sea, 
 A hero worthy of three times three !' 
 
i84 To A- 
 
 TO A- 
 
 The breath of your sweetbriar, Annie, 
 
 Through my room is floating free — 
 Pure odorous scent of summer-time, 
 
 By riverside and lea. 
 The perfume of the eglantine 
 
 Lives long in memory, 
 So sweet ! but your remembrance, dear, 
 
 Is sweeter still to me. 
 Softer than those pink petals far. 
 
 More sweet than their rich perfume, 
 Were the gentle thoughts they wakened 
 
 In the twilight's gathering gloom. 
 Oh, fair are the wildwood blossoms, 
 
 But brief is their fragrant day ; 
 Yet the loving word and thoughtful deed, 
 
 Fairer flowerets by life's way, 
 Like rare and fadeless immortelles, 
 
 Have beauty that lasts for aye. 
 
SACRED POEMS. 
 
' COME YE APART.' 
 
 ' They gathered themselves together,' 
 
 A valiant little band, 
 Back from evangelizing 
 
 At Jesus' direct command. 
 
 ' They gathered themselves together,' 
 And their Master's presence sought ; 
 
 They told Him all that they had done, 
 And also what they had taught. 
 
 Their feet were wayworn and aching. 
 They were weary men confest. 
 
 When, ' Come ye apart,' said Jesus — 
 Yea, ' Come ye apart, and rest.' 
 
 Oh, joy to serve such a Master, 
 
 Infirmities treating so ! 
 No scorn for His feeble workmen, 
 
 But pity, the Lord doth show. 
 
 Who would not for this be weary, 
 Most willingly work or wait. 
 
 Toiling in sowing or reaping 
 
 From dawn till the hours grow late ? 
 
 Art working for this same Jesus 
 
 In toil and heat of to-day ? 
 Like the brave Apostles, seek Him, 
 
 And surely, as once did they, 
 
1 88 ' Come ye apart ' 
 
 Thou wilt lose the sense of languor 
 From heart and brain oppressed, 
 
 When ' Come ye apart,' saith Jesus — 
 Now, ' Come ye apart, and rest.' 
 
 Tell Him how the work goes forward, 
 Whatever thou knowest done 
 
 Or said in the name of Jesus, 
 God's only begotten Son. 
 
 Tell Him, for He loves to hear it. 
 Over land so dry and bare. 
 
 How the seed was duly scattered 
 By the hands of Faith and Prayer ; 
 
 Where fear forbade you to scatter, 
 Lest fowls of the air should prey. 
 
 And, telling it all to Jesus, 
 Be sure He will gently say. 
 
 With love, which drew the beloved 
 Disciple to lean on His breast, 
 
 ' Now, come ye apart a little, 
 Apart by yourselves, and rest.' 
 
 BENEDICITE. 
 
 You heard no sound save the low ' Good-night,' 
 But a prayer-thought sprang on its upward flight 
 From the heart of a fond and faithful friend 
 To the throne of the King who will answer send. 
 
The Heavenly Vision i8g 
 
 As the gentle dew or the plenteous rain ; 
 
 For never a prayer is breathed in vain, 
 
 Is breathed too often, in His kind ear 
 
 For the friends we love — God bless you, dear ! 
 
 THE HEAVENLY VISION. 
 
 More radiant than the golden ray 
 
 At noontide's fervid hour, 
 Suddenly on the traveller's way. 
 
 In strange and mystic power, 
 Over the old Damascus road 
 
 The heavenly vision shone : 
 The prince of preachers owned its might 
 
 Before Agrippa's throne. 
 
 Over their daisied meadowlands, 
 
 To childhood's happy eyes, 
 Perhaps to-morrow or to-day 
 
 That vision may arise ; 
 Or ' where the brook and river meet,' 
 
 While wistful linger yet 
 Our much-loved youths and maidens fair. 
 
 That vision may be met. 
 
 Above the tender mother's path, 
 Hedged in by cherished cares, 
 
 Retarded, still, like aftermath. 
 May seal her many prayers. 
 
igo The Heavenly Vision 
 
 And e'en o'er manhood's graver brow, 
 Deprived of life's first glow, 
 
 The vision, like a midnight star, 
 New lustre may bestow. 
 
 Oh, be not disobedient, friend, 
 
 Whate'er thy case may be ; 
 Bind on thy sandals and arise 
 
 When Jesus calleth thee. 
 ' Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do ?' 
 
 And He will answer make : 
 ' Deny thyself; come, follow Me, 
 
 Cross-bearer for My sake.' 
 
 Over the old Damascus road 
 
 The heavenly vision shone ; 
 A second time it shall appear 
 
 Upon the great white throne. 
 While rocks may rend and mountains flee. 
 
 With Paul, oh, happy men 
 Who, pointing to the past, can say 
 
 ' Not disobedient ' then ! 
 
 CONSECRATION HYMNS. 
 
 I. 
 
 No more the costly golden band 
 Upon the priestly brow, 
 
 With ' Holiness unto the Lord,' 
 Confronts Thy people now. 
 
Consecration Hymns tgi 
 
 On us, Thy later chosen priests, 
 
 Canst Thou yet. Father, see 
 That sacred record over all 
 
 Our lives, our work for Thee ? 
 
 'Thou art in heaven, and we on earth,' 
 
 Our words may well be few ; 
 But, by Thy promised Spirit led. 
 
 Oh, let them all be true ! 
 \Vhat can we render unto Thee 
 
 For great things Thou hast done. 
 But chiefly for that greatest gift 
 
 Of Thy belovfed Son ? 
 
 Our fairest works Thy purer eyes 
 
 Sin-stainfed all must see- 
 Poor worthless dross, without the touch 
 
 Of Christ's love alchemy. 
 For His beloved sake well pleased. 
 
 Thou wilt not turn away 
 From offering which the poorest child 
 
 Shall on Thine altar lay. 
 
 And, thus emboldened, we draw near — 
 
 'Tis all of mercy due — 
 For Christ and for the Church He loves 
 
 Whatever we can do. 
 As Thou shalt give us grace, O Lord, 
 
 Behold a willing band 
 Whose work lies here, whose rest remains 
 
 Even in Immanuel's Land. 
 
192 Consecration Hymns 
 
 II. 
 
 In the name of Jesus met, 
 Purposed once again to lay 
 
 On God's altar love the gift, 
 Love the debt we ne'er can pay. 
 
 Christ, has called us, well we know, 
 As the fisher folk of yore — 
 
 Called from sunny Galilee, 
 Or beside Gennesareth's shore. 
 
 Teach us rightly how to give 
 
 Love and reverence. Lord, to Thee ; 
 Claim Thy guerdon, ' Where I am 
 
 Shall also My servant be.' 
 
 Let not any wilful sin 
 
 From our hearts e'er thrust Thee out, 
 Nor like cold mist intervene 
 
 Faithless thought or dream of doubt. 
 
 ' Of Thine own we offer Thee,' 
 Lord, our body, spirit, soul ; 
 
 Let our threefold nature be 
 Subject to Thy blest control. 
 
 Wills so wayward, make them Thine ; 
 
 Hearts deceitful, keep them true ; 
 Thou art able^ — this Thy word, 
 
 ' I, the Lord, make all things new.' 
 
Consecration Hymns 193 
 
 ' Of Thine own we offer Thee,' 
 
 Trusting in Thy strength alone ; 
 Lead us on to victory, 
 
 Till we stand before Thy throne. 
 
 III. 
 
 Jesus, Master, at Thy bidding 
 Once to Thee we came ; 
 
 Now behold us here assembled 
 In Thy name. 
 
 Thine by right and by redemption, 
 
 Gladly offer we 
 Dedicated lives and service 
 
 Unto Thee. 
 
 Let our words and meditations, 
 Though unworthy, prove 
 
 Acceptable in Thy presence, 
 Proof of love. 
 
 Lord, enlighten Thou our darkness. 
 Light of heaven and men ; 
 
 Burnish us till we reflect it 
 Back again ; 
 
 Till our lives bring honour to Thee, 
 
 Like a flag unfurled. 
 In our name of Christ's disciples. 
 
 From the world. 
 
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194 Consecration Hymns 
 
 Let the world take knowledge of us, 
 We would have it so, 
 
 While we follow in Thy footsteps, 
 Lord, below. 
 
 Give us prudence, give us patience. 
 
 Give us charity ; 
 Yea, conformed to Thy dear likeness 
 
 Let us be. 
 
 Bearing with clean hands unwearied 
 Vessels of the Lord, 
 
 See Him to our numbers adding 
 With accord. 
 
 To the Father, Son, and Spirit, 
 
 Holy Trinity, 
 Dedicated lives and service 
 
 Offer we. 
 
 THE JOY OF THE LORD. 
 
 True joy lies not in spending 
 
 A life of selfish ease ; 
 The hands that grasp at pleasure 
 
 Would fain a shadow seize. 
 It comes when Jesu gives us 
 
 A sense of sin forgiven. 
 As gentle and as holy 
 
 As dove descent from heaven. 
 
The Joy of the Lord 195 
 
 It comes in ample measure 
 
 When, like our Pattern meek, 
 The wayward and the wandering 
 
 With loving zeal we seek : 
 When daily sacrifices 
 
 For Christ's dear sake are made ; 
 When time and love and talents 
 
 Are on the altar laid. 
 
 A boon denied not any 
 
 Who follow this plain rule : 
 ' Ask, and ye shall receive it. 
 
 That your joy may be full.' 
 Alas that our dear Master 
 
 Could lay such charge as this : 
 * Ye have not, for ye ask not, 
 
 Or, asking, ask amiss ' ! 
 
 Are Christians so o'erburdened 
 
 With bliss of earth below 
 That heavenly benedictions 
 
 They willingly forego ? 
 Oh, let us, brothers, sisters, 
 
 Turn to the Lord, and pray 
 That joy of His own sending 
 
 May fill our hearts to-day ! 
 
ige 'Help, Lord,!' 
 
 'HELP, LORD!' 
 
 In memory of Thy days below, 
 When Thou didst sore temptation know, 
 Come to my side — yea, even so : 
 Oh, Jesu, succour me ! 
 
 I, too, am in a desert drear ; 
 All others far, but Satan near ; 
 And I, so frail, the tempter fear : 
 Oh, Jesu, succour me ! 
 
 Sin woos me on with winning guise, 
 Turn Thou away my tempted eyes, 
 Way of escape Thou canst devise : 
 Oh, Jesu, succour me ! 
 
 Satan is wide awake, alert ; 
 Thine own elect lest He pervert, 
 Each poisoned shaft avert, avert : 
 Oh, Jesu, succour me ! 
 
 Who sympathizest, knowing all, 
 Forecast the shame which follows fall, 
 The half-forgotten vow recall : 
 Oh, Jesu, succour me ! 
 
 ' Sin shall not have dominion,' this 
 O'er-crown of all material bliss, 
 By Thee supported, none shall miss : 
 Oh, Jesu, succour me ! 
 
The Eucharist 197 
 
 THE EUCHARIST. 
 
 Christ Jesus our Passover 
 
 Is sacrificed for us, 
 And from sin's cruel bondage 
 
 He hath redeemed thus. 
 Then give the best to Jesus, 
 
 The upper furnished room, 
 And let us keep with gladness 
 
 This feast until He come. 
 
 'Tis Jesus, our Passover, 
 
 We ever look to now ; 
 Before our glorious Master, 
 
 Let us. His servants, bow. 
 The upper room for Jesus, 
 
 A heart enlarged by love, 
 By heavenly mediation 
 
 Raised earthly cares above. 
 
 For since we have accepted 
 
 Redemption free and royal. 
 Our sins are all forgiven — 
 
 Oh, let us then be loyal ! 
 With care let us make ready 
 
 To keep this feast with Him, 
 And emulate the reverence 
 
 Of veiled cherubim. 
 
 The upper room for Jesus, 
 
 A sweet consistent life ; 
 Though in the world, not of it. 
 
 Calm 'mid its surging strife. 
 
igS Gethsemane 
 
 A meek and quiet spirit 
 Where other graces meet ; 
 
 A room for Jesus furnished 
 By the blest Paraclete. 
 
 GETHSEMANE. 
 
 Gethsemane, thy garden 
 Hath been, and still must be, 
 
 The solemn antechamber 
 To mournful Calvary. 
 
 For was there ever sorrow 
 
 In all this world of woe 
 Like that which 'neath thine olives 
 
 Bowed our Immanuel low ? 
 
 The ages past and passing 
 All hear with bated breath 
 
 Thine echo of soul anguish 
 Exceeding unto death ; 
 
 That cry of cries, ' My Father !' 
 Wrung from God's only Son, 
 
 ' Let this cup pass ; but, nathless, 
 Thy will, not Mine, be done.' 
 
 Hate met his love's proffers, 
 
 Rejected and despised j 
 Yet for His very scoffers 
 
 Salvation He devised. 
 
Aspirations igg 
 
 Upon the deed of Jesus 
 
 Hung every debtor's fate ; 
 He suffered to release us 
 
 And open heaven's gate. 
 
 ASPIRATIONS. 
 
 ' We are just as good as we want to be,' 
 
 Said one, but I argue, No ! 
 In our better moments each one of us 
 
 Would be whiter than the snow. 
 
 We would rise and reach to an angel height, 
 
 The life that is hid with God, 
 And be as the Sinless, whose holy feet 
 
 The dolorous pathway trod. 
 
 We may lapse, and lie at our ease awhile, 
 
 To a lower plane decline ; 
 But we come to ourselves in that far land. 
 
 And know we are herding swine — 
 
 Whence ever and aye to the Father's home 
 
 Turn wistfully straining eyes ; 
 While lips not as pure as they fain would be 
 
 Are saying, ' I will arise.' 
 
 We are not as good as we want to be. 
 
 Our Father the truth doth know ; 
 The robe, and the ring, and the welcome home. 
 
 To these our desires shall grow. 
 
200 The Teacher's Greeting 
 
 THE TEACHER'S GREETING. 
 
 ' I HAVE clasped thy hand in greeting, 
 
 In parting, many a time, 
 As we met, through rain or sunshine. 
 
 On the day when church bells chime ; 
 In many a mood and moment 
 
 Have I looked into thine eyes. 
 Pondering o'er the hallowed pages 
 
 Wherein all true wisdom lies-. 
 
 But the days and weeks are gliding 
 
 Into years that hurry past, 
 With the parting of the ways to face. 
 
 For thou and I at last ; 
 And the outward life that wraps us. 
 
 With the soul-life none may see, 
 Is our daily preparation 
 
 For a long eternity. 
 
 But when these mutual meeting-times 
 
 For us shall be no more. 
 Like a lamp unto thy pathway 
 
 Prove the Scriptures learned of yore. 
 Ay, when the old-time teacher 
 
 Shall a faded memory be. 
 May God bring the old-time lessons, 
 
 Unforgotten, back to thee ! 
 
 Grant us certain meeting somewhere 
 In the heavenly homeland, when 
 
 The grand Alleluia anthem 
 Shall receive our glad ' Amen.' 
 
Bethel 2OT 
 
 BETHEL. 
 
 No shelter the wanderer weary befriending, 
 A desolate plain and the evening descending ; 
 A stone for a pillow, soon calmly he's sleeping. 
 The stars in the azure vault tender watch keeping. 
 
 No fond mother's kiss on his fair forehead resting. 
 Is loneness with terror the young heart investing ? 
 Like sweet benediction the night dews are falling ; 
 He hears not the evil beast hungrily calling. 
 
 His sins and his sorrows all sweetly forgetting, 
 Kind sleep to these proud waves the 'No further' 
 
 setting ; 
 Beyond all imaginings lovely and thrilling, 
 A vision with wonder the dreamer is filling : 
 
 A ladder low earth and high heaven uniting. 
 To regions of glory a stairway inviting. 
 And glorious seraphs, God's fairest designing. 
 Descend to the spot where the lad is reclining ; 
 
 But ever return to their holy residing. 
 
 On earth though appearing, ye: never abiding. 
 
 He gazed on the radiance till daylight was breaking, 
 
 Then lost the fair vision, from slumber awaking. 
 
 Not lost it, not lost it ; the beautiful beaming 
 Is lustrous as ever, immortal its gleaming ; 
 In early devotion the fugitive, bending, 
 Felt round him a wonderful Presence extending. 
 
202 Her Dying Prayer 
 
 ' None other than God's house,' his reverent saying, 
 The portal of heaven, meet place, then, for praying ! 
 Still through our lives may glad Bethel keep telling 
 A way of access to the Father's pure dwelling. 
 
 HER DYING PRAYER. 
 
 ' God of Jacob, bridge the river !' 
 Recording angels bore the prayer 
 
 Away, away ! 
 Within the pearly portals white. 
 Within the walls of jasper bright. 
 Within the city of pure light, 
 
 'Tis kept for aye. 
 
 ' God of Jacob, bridge the river !' 
 True faith and love were in that cry, 
 
 Though low and faint. 
 Her feet might tread life's road no more. 
 Nor distant gleamed the golden shore ; 
 But darkly rolled death's stream before 
 
 The agfed saint. 
 
 ' God of Jacob, bridge the river !' 
 Petition short, most quaintly sweet. 
 
 And heard on high. 
 The gracious guarding Power made known 
 To him who pillowed on a stone 
 His weary head, when sad and lone. 
 
 Is ever nigh. 
 
The Uphill Path 203 
 
 ' God of Jacob, bridge the river !' 
 Rejoicing seraphs winged their flight 
 
 To that chill shore, 
 And with a smile she fell asleep. 
 What if the tide were dark and deep ? 
 He gave His angels charge to keep, 
 
 And bridged it o'er. 
 
 THE UPHILL PATH. 
 
 On the uphill path, thou dear one. 
 
 Weary. Yet do not despair. 
 For the Lord's amen is certain 
 
 To each conscientious prayer ; 
 And prayer is arising for thee 
 
 When little thou mayest dream — 
 In the chill of early starlight. 
 
 Or high noontide's golden gleam. 
 
 On the uphill path, thou dear one, 
 
 Is often a sense of loss ; 
 The tender vow of the evening 
 
 Breaks under the morning's cross. 
 Resolves end only in failures. 
 
 Till the heart grows numb or sore. 
 And the reckless thought is harboured : 
 
 ' What use in attempting more ?' 
 
204 The Uphill Path 
 
 Keep the uphill path, thou dear one, 
 
 Though baiBed and passion-tossed ; 
 Of all whom the Lord hath chosen 
 
 Not one can ever be lost. 
 How do I know thou art chosen ? 
 
 Because He hath given thee power 
 To trust in the Name of Jesus, 
 
 The Name that is ' an high tower.' 
 
 Keep the uphill path, thou dear one ; 
 
 The King hath gone to prepare 
 Thy place in the ' many mansions ' ; 
 
 It surely will lead thee there. 
 Our trials would seem as nothing 
 
 If Jesus to us could show 
 The terrible Dolorosa 
 
 Which He turned not from below. 
 
 On the uphill path, thou dear one. 
 
 Who fall can yet rise again ; 
 In the peace of the hereafter 
 
 Recompense for the present strain 
 Thou shalt find. Remember, dear one, 
 
 The promise ' to him that hath.' 
 The dear Lord lead and guide thee 
 
 Along on the uphill path ! 
 
Echoes of Patmos 205 
 
 ECHOES OF PATMOS. 
 
 ' Isle that is callfed Patmos,' 
 
 Set in the ^gean sea, 
 The sainted exile prison. 
 
 My spirit turns toward thee. 
 O Patmos ! rocky Patmos ! 
 
 Who would not exiled be, 
 If thy sea-girt seclusion 
 
 Brought sight of Deity ? 
 
 What music, Isle of Patmos, 
 
 Can ravish human ear 
 Like the soul-stirring measure 
 
 Of thy beloved seer ? 
 Thrice-blessed eyes once gazing 
 
 On the ^gean blue, 
 When, blinding in its beauty. 
 
 Heaven burst upon their view ! 
 
 And in her bridal whiteness. 
 
 With pomp of pure array, 
 Whose earth-excelling brightness 
 
 Mere words may not convey, 
 That high and holy city. 
 
 The New Jerusalem, 
 Where Israel shall be folded 
 
 When God shall dwell with them ! 
 
 Behold ! but no more sorrow — 
 These words are faithful, true; 
 
2o6 Echoes of Patmos 
 
 No tears, no pain, no crying ; 
 
 God shall make all things new. 
 While he that overcometh 
 
 Shall be to God a son. 
 And all things shall inherit, 
 
 Saith the most Holy One. 
 
 ' Write, the Spirit saith unto the Churches ' — 
 Words that have pierced the ages come to me ; 
 
 And I seem to stand on rocky Patmos, 
 Looking across the blue ^gean sea. 
 
 ' Write, the Spirit saith unto the Churches : 
 To him that overcometh, yea, to him. 
 
 Will I give to eat the fruit supernal. 
 Once guarded by the flaming cherubim, 
 
 ' Of the Tree of Life, whose fruits supernal 
 Ripen amidst the Paradise of God.' 
 
 Press on, my soul, the path thus set before thee. 
 That path which Jesu, born of Mary, trod. 
 
 ' Saith the Spirit also to the Churches : 
 Yea, he that overcometh shall be free 
 
 From that woe, all present woe transcending ; 
 O'er such the second death shall powerless be.' 
 
 ' Hear yet, saith the Spirit to the Churches : 
 
 Who overcometh will I give to eat 
 Of the bread of angels, hidden manna, 
 
 Supplying spirit sustenance most sweet. 
 
' Passeth A way ' 207 
 
 ' He that overcometh shall be clothed 
 
 In raiment snowy white, and free from spot ; 
 
 And his name, confessed before My Father, 
 From out the Book of Life I will not blot. 
 
 ' And I will grant to him that overcometh — 
 This crowning glory shall be his alone — 
 
 To share with Me the conqueror's glory, 
 Even as I My Father's highest throne.' 
 
 Brothers ! how the words prophetic thrill us. 
 
 Expanding life's horizon verily, 
 As we scan with the beloved disciple 
 
 The unveiled aisles of dim Eternity. 
 
 'PASSETH AWAY.' 
 
 Barren and brown and bare, 
 
 'Neath long-continued glare 
 Of summer sunshine, lie upland and moor. 
 
 No more the wild bird sings 
 
 Beside the pleasant springs. 
 Nor grain rewards the tillage of the poor. 
 
 And yet there hath been found 
 
 Upon the parched ground 
 An earnest of good things, the early dew ; 
 
 While rain as to bestow 
 
 Came softly, gray and low, 
 The morning cloud beneath the solemn blue. 
 
^o8 ' Passeth Away' 
 
 Illusory— to flit ! 
 
 ' Passeth away ' is writ 
 Both of the early dew and morning cloud : 
 
 Like transitory dream, 
 
 Whose bright illusive gleam 
 Is lost, as gladness wakes us crying loud. 
 
 How oft in youth's heyday 
 
 The dew of promise may 
 With morning clouds bespeak a plenteous rain, 
 
 To foster dormant seeds 
 
 Of holy words and deeds 
 To blessed harvest, even amidst earth's pain. 
 
 O soul ! where are thy sheaves ? 
 
 Hast thou nothing but leaves ? 
 A retrospect of promise unfulfilled ? 
 
 Work — it is yet to-day ! 
 
 Retrieve without delay, 
 Ere death that wayward heart of thine hath stilled. 
 
 Arid and brown and bare, 
 
 'Neath long-continued glare 
 Of summer sunshine, moor and upland lie. 
 
 Yet may God's latter rain 
 
 Revive these wastes again, 
 Though early dew and morning cloud have both 
 passed by. 
 
God is Love 2og 
 
 GOD IS LOVE. 
 
 Oh, precious wprds, exceeding sweet, 
 
 God is Love ! 
 Poor pilgrims 'neath earth's toil and heat, 
 
 God is Love ! 
 Grieve not your hearts with woes of time ; 
 Behold by faith a sinless clime. 
 And with glad voices swell the chime, 
 
 God is Love ! 
 
 This lightens every heavy cross — 
 
 God is Love ! 
 This lessens every bitter loss — 
 
 God is Love ! 
 Oh, let us trust a Father's hand 
 To lead us through this foreign land ; 
 His guidance will this song command, 
 
 God is Love ! 
 
 If dry and parched the desert be, 
 
 God is Love ! 
 The rock may waters yield for thee — ■ 
 
 God is Love ! 
 The graceful palm may sheltering rise. 
 The cloud o'erveil too ardent skies, 
 Each morning bring thee fresh supplies — 
 
 God is Love ! 
 
 On Hermon falls the twilight dew — 
 
 God is Love ! 
 Flowers bloom in valleys hid from view — 
 
 God is Love. 
 
 14 
 
2IO God is Love 
 
 Fair nightly stars that gleam and glow, 
 Yon crescent moon which seems to grow, 
 Proclaim to all who watch below, 
 God is Love ! 
 
 The soul this of angelic lays, 
 
 God is Love ! 
 The keynote of all mortal praise, 
 
 God is Love ! 
 We have a Father ever near, 
 An Elder Brother true and dear, 
 A Comforter. Farewell, lone Fear ; 
 
 God is Love ! 
 
 Oh, spread this truth — yes, spread it wide- 
 God is Love ! 
 
 Where felons pine, where kings reside, 
 God is Love ! 
 
 Go, tell the sailor on the wave ; 
 
 Go, tell the patriot soldier brave ; 
 
 Go, tell the mourner at the grave, 
 God is Love ! 
 
 In golden letters trace it bright, 
 
 God is Love ! 
 On youthful hearts be swift to write, 
 
 God is Love ! 
 Inscribe it on our banners high. 
 Our pass to realms beyond the sky ; 
 Rejoice to live, nor dread to die — 
 
 God is Love ! 
 
Beyond 211 
 
 BEYOND. 
 
 We think, then with a sigh reswathe the thought, 
 And leave it once more to repose within its soul 
 
 recess. 
 We are so finite, all in vain our efforts to compress 
 The mighty God's Hereafter, glory fraught 
 Within our tiny span, our shadowed Now ; 
 And yet ' I know that my Redeemer liveth ' oft we 
 
 say. 
 Oh, risen Christ, with faith endow 
 To trust for what shall be ! But day by day 
 Familiarize us with Thy home ; 
 That, far outsoaring bird that highest flies, 
 Our singing souls may daily seek the skies, 
 Ennobled, love the calm blue dome. 
 And thus in heaven's proximity await 
 The ' Enter in,' the wide-thrown pearly gate. 
 
 IN HEAVEN. 
 
 Oh, weep no more, and do not grieve 
 
 For the dear one gone before ; 
 But only another bright link perceive 
 In the chain which the God of love doth weave 
 'Twixt earth and the glory we may not conceive. 
 
 Where sorrow and sighing are o'er — 
 In Heaven. 
 
212 In Heaven 
 
 Love can smile when a brighter lot 
 
 Than its own to another falls. 
 Unselfish, its loss, deprivation, forgot. 
 And oft'ner in spirit drawn towards the spot 
 Where its object is, than the blank where 'tis not. 
 
 Rejoice, if separation calls 
 To Heaven. 
 
 Then, sigh no more. Ye loved him well ; 
 
 Why share not in your thought 
 His fadeless joy, who for ever shall dwell 
 In the home where each pure immortal will tell 
 With celestial, triumphant tone, ' It is well 1' 
 
 Eternal life, bliss-fraught, 
 In Heaven ? 
 
 Where he ever walks in the light 
 
 Of the City, unknowing care, 
 All purity blest : for the garments white 
 Of its dwellers are spotless ; no darksome night 
 May conceal from view one glist'ning sight, 
 
 Or the gates of pearl so fair, 
 In Heaven. 
 
 Glad, tearless land, bright, cloudless land — 
 
 Realm of unbroken peace ; 
 'Mid the faithful and true from every strand ; 
 Finite no longer, O destiny grand ! 
 But a member enrolled of the holy band 
 
 Whose praises never cease 
 In Heaven. 
 
In Heaven 213 
 
 Think of the voice whose accents long 
 
 In memory you may hear, 
 Now fervently joining the full sweet song 
 Which the happy redeemed delight to prolong — 
 A wondrous swell of music strong, 
 
 To listening seraphs dear, 
 In Heaven ! 
 
 Think how his kindling spirit thrills 
 
 To know as he is known, 
 While Christ all promises there fulfils, 
 And all life's mysterious, seeming ills 
 Reveals ; his soul with gratitude fills 
 
 As plainly. All is shown 
 In Heaven. 
 
 Citizen of this radiant place, 
 
 With the noblest list of friends : 
 Stephen, with still more angelic face. 
 The Apostle who kept the course in life's race — 
 A glorious company filling the place, 
 
 Their social converse blends 
 In Heaven, 
 
 Could he return and now unfold 
 
 The bliss laid up in store, 
 Too poor were our earthly words and cold 
 To depict the brightness, compared to gold 
 And crystal clear, or the dazzling mould 
 
 Of forms the throne before, 
 In Heaven. 
 
214 In Heaven 
 
 Ye would not wish him to forego 
 
 One strain of the holy song 
 For the jarring discord of human woe, 
 The trouble and pain and care to know, 
 'Neath the clouds, and shadows that longer grow, 
 
 Or to leave the holy throng 
 In Heaven. 
 
 For they who enter once that rest 
 
 With earth and time are done. 
 Ye know him happy there and blest : 
 Let this assurance calm your breast ; 
 Enjoy the Saviour's peace bequest 
 
 Till tranquil joy is won 
 In Heaven. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 Elliot Stock, 62, Paternoster Row, E.C. 
 
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