Page:A New Zealand verse (1906).pdf/90
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54
The Passing of the Forest.
Lost is the sense of noiseless, sweet escape
From dust of stony plains, from sun and gale,
When the feet tread where shade and silence drape
The stems with peace beneath the leafy veil,
Or where a pleasant rustling stirs each shape
Creeping with whisperings that rise and fail
Through labyrinths half-lit by chequered play
Of light on golden moss now burned away.
From dust of stony plains, from sun and gale,
When the feet tread where shade and silence drape
The stems with peace beneath the leafy veil,
Or where a pleasant rustling stirs each shape
Creeping with whisperings that rise and fail
Through labyrinths half-lit by chequered play
Of light on golden moss now burned away.
Gone are the forest tracks, where oft we rode
Under the silver fern-fronds climbing slow,
In cool, green tunnels, though fierce noontide glowed
And glittered on the tree-tops far below.
There, ’mid the stillness of the mountain road,
We just could hear the valley river flow,
Whose voice through many a windless summer day
Haunted the silent woods, now passed away.
Under the silver fern-fronds climbing slow,
In cool, green tunnels, though fierce noontide glowed
And glittered on the tree-tops far below.
There, ’mid the stillness of the mountain road,
We just could hear the valley river flow,
Whose voice through many a windless summer day
Haunted the silent woods, now passed away.
Drinking fresh odours, spicy wafts that blew,
We watched the glassy, quivering air asleep,
Midway between tall cliffs that taller grew
Above the unseen torrent calling deep;
Till, like a sword, cleaving the foliage through,
The waterfall flashed foaming down the steep,
White, living water, cooling with its spray
Dense plumes of fragile fern, now scorched away.
We watched the glassy, quivering air asleep,
Midway between tall cliffs that taller grew
Above the unseen torrent calling deep;
Till, like a sword, cleaving the foliage through,
The waterfall flashed foaming down the steep,
White, living water, cooling with its spray
Dense plumes of fragile fern, now scorched away.
Keen is the axe, the rushing fire streams bright,
Clear, beautiful, and fierce it speeds for Man,
The Master, set to change and stern to smite,
Bronzed pioneer of nations. Ay, but scan
The ruined beauty wasted in a night,
The blackened wonder God alone could plan,
And builds not twice! A bitter price to pay
Is this for progress—beauty swept away.
Clear, beautiful, and fierce it speeds for Man,
The Master, set to change and stern to smite,
Bronzed pioneer of nations. Ay, but scan
The ruined beauty wasted in a night,
The blackened wonder God alone could plan,
And builds not twice! A bitter price to pay
Is this for progress—beauty swept away.