Page:A New Zealand verse (1906).pdf/158

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122
Ti-trees and the Kukupa.
One lone bird forgets
That the white moon is climbing;
While over a hill a star sets,
It is chiming and chiming:—

Bell-birds, softer than bells,
Bell-bird, ever in tune,
What god in your bosom dwells?—
What passion your bosom swells
As you chime to the climbing moon?

LXXV.

Ti-trees and the Kukupa.

A grove of the southern palm
  On an islet, alone
In the bosom unrippled and calm
Of a lake with its mountain-zone:

The wild bee’s singing
Has ceased in the great white bloom;
And the once gay-scented plume
Hangs lazily swinging:

White? it is still milk-white
In its green top serried,
  Still milk-white,—
But drooping, heavily berried.