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114
Te Raupo.
“Not waiting sadly to die a-cold,
My petals trampled in rotting mould,
But rapt and lost when my life is past
In the shining spaces of air at last.”
My petals trampled in rotting mould,
But rapt and lost when my life is past
In the shining spaces of air at last.”
LXIX.
Te Raupo.
Down in a valley,
Hemmed in by mountains,
Ripples a river
Vivid and verdant.
Foot may not ford it,
Craft may not stem it;
Which way the wind blows,
So sets its current.
Hemmed in by mountains,
Ripples a river
Vivid and verdant.
Foot may not ford it,
Craft may not stem it;
Which way the wind blows,
So sets its current.
Home of the old witch,
Fain she would lure thee
Down to destruction,
Whispering softly:
“Come tread my raupo,
Safe it will bear thee
O’er the morass.”
Deaf to her charming,
Deaf to her wooing,
Pauses the wise man;
Ay, though each raupo
Bends in obeisance,
Whispering “Try us.”
Fain she would lure thee
Down to destruction,
Whispering softly:
“Come tread my raupo,
Safe it will bear thee
O’er the morass.”
Deaf to her charming,
Deaf to her wooing,
Pauses the wise man;
Ay, though each raupo
Bends in obeisance,
Whispering “Try us.”