Page:A New Zealand verse (1906).pdf/91
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The Last of the Forest.
55
XXVII.
The Last of the Forest.
Hast thou not heard, O White Man, through a troubled dreaming
On some still night when all the world lay stark,
Sharp through the silence, moaning of the sea, and screaming
Of night-birds in the dark ?
On some still night when all the world lay stark,
Sharp through the silence, moaning of the sea, and screaming
Of night-birds in the dark ?
Hast thou not said, O White Man, shivering when the shrieking
Wild voices thrilled thee in a mystery of pain:
“Peace! ’tis the Ocean calling! ’tis the Dead Tree creaking!
Hush thee, my heart, again!”
Wild voices thrilled thee in a mystery of pain:
“Peace! ’tis the Ocean calling! ’tis the Dead Tree creaking!
Hush thee, my heart, again!”
Are they but birds? is it the sea in lamentation,
Or is it Ghosts of Earth, and Air, that cry,
Moaning a requiem, in their utter desolation,
For old worlds passing by?
Or is it Ghosts of Earth, and Air, that cry,
Moaning a requiem, in their utter desolation,
For old worlds passing by?
Is it the wind that howls? The Dead Tree thou ignorest,
Speech hath, and Spirit, though a shadow grey.
Hearest thou not the voice that mourns the vanished Forest,
That was, and passed away?
Speech hath, and Spirit, though a shadow grey.
Hearest thou not the voice that mourns the vanished Forest,
That was, and passed away?
“White Man, behold me! ghastly in the Spring’s sereneness,
Battered, and bruised, by ceaseless storm and strife;
I am the Spectre of a mighty forest’s greenness,
I, who am Death in Life!
Battered, and bruised, by ceaseless storm and strife;
I am the Spectre of a mighty forest’s greenness,
I, who am Death in Life!