Page:A New Zealand verse (1906).pdf/283

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A Temple Service.
247
A writing for the scrolls of scribes,
  The graven gates
That tell the triumphs of the tribes
  On brazen plates.

priests.

Wherefore the heavy hearts and sad
      Be grown all glad,
And rainbow light in eyes yet rimmed
      By grief that dimmed.

Wherefore the mouth by mourning mute,
      The feeble foot,
Hath joy in it as meat and bread,
      Is strong of tread.

people.

In garden ground the summer burns,
  Not yet grown old,
And on the corn whose colour turns
  From green to gold ;

But harvest men, before they make
  The sickle sharp,
Go up to keep the days sweet sake
  With heart and harp.

priests.

It falls within the twofold time:
      The youngest prime
Of fruit, the latest looks of flowers,
      Are on its hours.