Page:A New Zealand verse (1906).pdf/186
This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
150
At Home.
The roof is tined with cedar-wood,
The panels golden pine,
The lattice set with lozenges,
And hung with crimson fine.
The panels golden pine,
The lattice set with lozenges,
And hung with crimson fine.
The pear-tree wraps her oriel;
Musk fills the window-frame;
Her paroquet sits in the ring,
And twitters out her name.
Musk fills the window-frame;
Her paroquet sits in the ring,
And twitters out her name.
The circling landscape underneath
Glows through its misty veil;
The thunder-cloud against the wind
Beats up, a blackening sail.
Glows through its misty veil;
The thunder-cloud against the wind
Beats up, a blackening sail.
The sea, that shone like silver scales,
Fades, tarnished by its breath;
The shaking poplar turns her face
As in a wind of death.
Fades, tarnished by its breath;
The shaking poplar turns her face
As in a wind of death.
Still half the fields return the sun,
Still laughs the running wheat:
The bird sings on—one sheet of flame!
And now the thunders meet.
Still laughs the running wheat:
The bird sings on—one sheet of flame!
And now the thunders meet.
But up within the turret-room
How still it is, how warm!
Shut, like the water-lily’s cup
That closes in the storm.
How still it is, how warm!
Shut, like the water-lily’s cup
That closes in the storm.
A kitten coiled upon the chair,
A half-wrought broidery,
Books on the wall, and passing dreams—
Perchance a dream of me!
A half-wrought broidery,
Books on the wall, and passing dreams—
Perchance a dream of me!