Page:A New Zealand verse (1906).pdf/214

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178
Pax Vobiscum.
One old box-tree bends his head,
One broad wattle shades her bed,
One lone magpie mourns the dead:
 “Peace be with thee, Lilian.”

Echoes come on every breeze,
Sighing through the ancient trees,
Whisp’ring in their melodies:
 “Peace be with thee, Lilian.”

Mellow sunbeams, morn and eve,
Quick to come and slow to leave,
Kiss the quilt where daisies weave
 Rich designs o’er Lilian.

When the dying blossoms cling
To the skirts of parting Spring,
Wattle-boughs and branches fling
 Showers of gold o’er Lilian.

When the summer moon mounts high,
Queen of all the speckless sky,
Shafts of silver softly lie
 O’er the grave of Lilian.

Mystic midnight voices melt
Through each leafy bower and belt,
Round the spot where friends have knelt
 “Peace be with thee, Lilian.”

Far away from town and tower,
Sleeping in a leafy bower,
Withered lies the forest flower—
 “Peace be with thee, Lilian.”

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