Page:A New Zealand verse (1906).pdf/106
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70
Arlington.
The bustling town, with its pink and green,
And its hoardings of red and blue,
To our open eyes was poor and mean
As we thought of the long, bright days that had been
In the old fair world we knew.
And its hoardings of red and blue,
To our open eyes was poor and mean
As we thought of the long, bright days that had been
In the old fair world we knew.
The church spires climb to the dreary sky,
And the bells ring peace from Heaven;
But the joy of God’s rich fields that lie
Wide to the winds and the wild bird’s cry
May never again be given.
And the bells ring peace from Heaven;
But the joy of God’s rich fields that lie
Wide to the winds and the wild bird’s cry
May never again be given.
Yet here in the clasp of a friendly hand
That wrought with me side by side,
I feel the thrill of the mountain land,
The life of toil that was strong and grand,
Old Memory’s rich flood-tide.
That wrought with me side by side,
I feel the thrill of the mountain land,
The life of toil that was strong and grand,
Old Memory’s rich flood-tide.
XXXIX.
Arlington.
The sun shines bright on Arlington, the drowsy sheep creep by,
The water races seam the hills, cloud shadows line the sky,
New fences climb the warm brown spurs to guard the scrubber ewes,
Because the run is broken up for hungry cockatoos;
The township sleeps below the hill, the homestead on the plain,
But the lost days of Arlington will never come again.
The water races seam the hills, cloud shadows line the sky,
New fences climb the warm brown spurs to guard the scrubber ewes,
Because the run is broken up for hungry cockatoos;
The township sleeps below the hill, the homestead on the plain,
But the lost days of Arlington will never come again.