Page:A New Zealand verse (1906).pdf/250
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Night Island.
White slender cones, volcanoes steep,
Piercing dark clouds whose masses sleep
O’er tree-clad capes.
Piercing dark clouds whose masses sleep
O’er tree-clad capes.
Forth wafted over the dim flood
The odours of the enchanted wood
Fresh earth-scents bear;
Flowers of starlight, wizard dews,
Scents of the mould and leaf, confuse
The clean, salt air.
The odours of the enchanted wood
Fresh earth-scents bear;
Flowers of starlight, wizard dews,
Scents of the mould and leaf, confuse
The clean, salt air.
Is that the echo of the surge
Caught in yon winding, deepening gorge?
Is that the voice
Of yonder foam-pale waterfall,
Of whose blown spray the tree-ferns tall
Drink and rejoice?
Caught in yon winding, deepening gorge?
Is that the voice
Of yonder foam-pale waterfall,
Of whose blown spray the tree-ferns tall
Drink and rejoice?
It is no stream’s, no surge’s wail,
No night-voice of a mountain vale.
Lo,—swells the chant!
A human strain is in my ears
Of manhood’s passion, woman’s tears,
And dreams that haunt,
No night-voice of a mountain vale.
Lo,—swells the chant!
A human strain is in my ears
Of manhood’s passion, woman’s tears,
And dreams that haunt,
Dreams of the lost ideal, ruth
For boyhood’s faith and gallant truth
And youth's brave will;
Then keenest joy, dear hopes and kind
That thrill the heart, glad tears that blind
Tired eyes,—and still,
For boyhood’s faith and gallant truth
And youth's brave will;
Then keenest joy, dear hopes and kind
That thrill the heart, glad tears that blind
Tired eyes,—and still,
Stayed by a spell the magic boat
A bow-shot from the shore must float
Nor touch the strand,
A bow-shot from the shore must float
Nor touch the strand,