Page:A New Zealand verse (1906).pdf/60
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24
A Colonist in his Garden.
For is my England there? Ah, no.
Gone is my England, long ago,
Leaving me tender joys,
Sweet, fragrant, happy-breathing names
Of wrinkled men and grey-haired dames,
To me still girls and boys.
Gone is my England, long ago,
Leaving me tender joys,
Sweet, fragrant, happy-breathing names
Of wrinkled men and grey-haired dames,
To me still girls and boys.
With these in youth let memory stray
In pleasance green, where stern to-day
Works Fancy no mischance.
Dear pleasance—let no light invade
Revealing ravage Time hath made
Amid thy dim romance!
In pleasance green, where stern to-day
Works Fancy no mischance.
Dear pleasance—let no light invade
Revealing ravage Time hath made
Amid thy dim romance!
Here am I rooted. Firm and fast
We men take root who face the blast,
When, to the desert come,
We stand where none before have stood
And braving tempest, drought and flood,
Fight Nature for a home.
We men take root who face the blast,
When, to the desert come,
We stand where none before have stood
And braving tempest, drought and flood,
Fight Nature for a home.
Now, when the fight is o’er, what man,
What wrestler, who in manhood’s span
Hath won so stern a fall,
Who, matched against the desert’s power,
Hath made the wilderness to flower,
Can turn, forsaking all?
What wrestler, who in manhood’s span
Hath won so stern a fall,
Who, matched against the desert’s power,
Hath made the wilderness to flower,
Can turn, forsaking all?
Yet that my heart to England cleaves
This garden tells with blooms and leaves
In old familiar throng,
And smells, sweet English every one,
And English turf to tread upon,
And English blackbird’s song.
This garden tells with blooms and leaves
In old familiar throng,
And smells, sweet English every one,
And English turf to tread upon,
And English blackbird’s song.