Red roses on the highways

Holland, H. E. (Henry Edmund), Holland & Stephenson, Sydney, NSW, 1924

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The original publication details are as follows:

Title: Red roses on the highways

Author: Holland, H. E. (Henry Edmund)

Published: Holland & Stephenson, Sydney, NSW, 1924

Red Roses on the Highways

H. E. HOLLAND

SYDNEY:

Holland & Stephenson Howard and Owen Sts.

1924

DEDICATION.

I’ve woven a wreath of roses red.

But never a wreath of rue;

I’ve woven a wreath of roses red —

And this is my gift to You!

PREFACE.

This little book is published—with considerable diffidence on my part —at the persistent request of a number of my close personal friends in the Labour and Socialist movement. Some of the verses contained herein were written in sunshine and some in shadotu; some in the glowing hours of Labour’s greatest promise, and some when the tear clouds hung black and low above the world and the rain that fell teas a deluge of blood and tears. “Sunrise” and “A Storm Song” were written on the verandah of the Coast Hospital at Little Bay, Sydney—when almost every hour teas an hour of pain and suffering. “Night and Day” and “A Captive’s Vision” tvere scribbled in prison cells. Quite a number of the other verses were the product of occasional endeavours to win for a while surcease from the din of the political battle. During not a few strenuous campaigns, for a brief hour now and then, I found not only physical benefit but at least some intellectual profit in surrendering to that psychological influence which seems to flow like a river of life from every environment of Nature’s Beauty; and it teas in such restful and rejuvenating moments that “The Valley of the Cre y,” “ Brother■

hood and Hope,” “Otira Gorge,” “Barrytown,” “Rewanui,” “A Westland Sunset,” and other pieces were penned.

I know hotv lofty and inaccessible to all hut the gifted feiv are the mountain peaks of genius which mark the dividing range between true poetry and mere verse; and I shall be well content to walk with the verse-makers in the valley if only my effort shall have brought some small gift of pleasure to my readers and some measure of inspiration to those who are my comrades in the army of Human Progression.

H.E.11.

INDEX.

Red Roses on the Highways 9

The Valley of the Grey 10

Barrytown 12

A Birthday Wish 14

Brotherhood and Hope 15

Otira Gorge 18

My Dream 19

Joy of Freedom 21

When Shadows Flee Away 23

A Fragment 25

Song of Labour 26

May Day Song 28

The Spirit of May Day 29

Take Heart 31

Man: World Triumphant 32

Oppression's Hands Are Red 37

The Red Standard of Right 38

Freedom's Pioneer 40

Eureka: 1854 42

They Shall Take and Hold 44

Night and Day 46

Sunrise 47

6

Rewanui: A Sonnet 48

The Sun God 49

Socialism 50

A Westland Sunset 51

A Captive's Vision 53

In Time of War 54

Peace on Earth 55

The White Christ's Dream 57

Maoriland to Australia: October, 1916 59

The Defeat of Conscription 61

The Mothers Left to Mourn 63

When the War Ended 64

My Dream of Peace 65

Mothers of Men and Militarism 66

The Twilight of the Kings 67

The Patriot 69

This is Life 71

A Storm Song 72

When I Am Dead 74

7

RED ROSES ON THE HIGHWAYS.

I saw the children playing.

I heard their voices ring:

It seemed the trees were swaying

In gentle winds of Spring,

It seemed the world was Maying

And glad as anything.

I heard the children s laughter

Go rippling through the night:

It seemed that ever after

The dark was linked with light,

It seemed from Hope’s Hereafter

There rained a soft delight.

I heard their gladness ringing

Through all the sun-kissed hours:

It seemed the birds were singing,

The gardens filled with flowers.

It seemed that Life was bringing

Love back to leafy bowers.

When Sorrow saddened my ways

I felt their dear arms cling,

And wafted from the by-ways

I heard Love’s tvhispering:

The children on Life’s highways

Red roses came to fling.

9

THE VALLEY OF THE GREY.

Roads that wind out to the meadows

Like new ways to Paradise,

With the tall trees casting shadows

Where the Valley’s beauty lies;

High Alps lifting in the distance

Snow-crowned heads to southern day.

Barring, with age-long insistence.

Pilgrims by the Eastern way.

Westward low the gold sun sinking

In a wealth of wondrous mist.

Light of day with dark night linking

Through a film of amethyst;

Hills as old as ancient story

Panoramic scenes unfold,

Flash from heights and slopes of glory

Purpled tones and burnished gold,

Fade to pink, then blaze the splendours

Of the richness of the rose.

Where in winter Nature renders

Worship to the God of Snows.

1o

Carpetings of wild white flowers

Bend before the dying Day;

Bell-birds ring through bushland bowers

Silver chimes like songs of May;

Lovers linger where the meadows

Spread their gold and green and white —

Softly fall the sunset shadows

And the curtain of the Night.

11

BARRYTOWN.

The green-robed hills of Barrytown —

That in the days of old

Rang to the swing of strong mens picks

In their great quest for gold —

Stand silent now before the sea.

Save for the murm’ring waves

And softest rustling of the trees

That guard forgotten graves.

While Summer suns transform the dew

To jewels of the morn,

And nights of peace and days of calm

Pass fore and aft the dawn:

Save for, betimes, the wild waves’ march

And loud Titanic roar

When storms rage down from the North-

West

And beat against the shore.

The hills and dales of Barrytown

Were clad in shades of green,

And westward far the Summer sea

Spread out its silver sheen;

12

And standing there where billows rolled

To meet the sunlit lea.

I dreamed of human happiness

And God's great Liberty.

I dreamed that Love-of-Life might find

An Aidenn fair and free

Below' the hills of Barrytown,

Beside the shining sea:

I dreamed that here surcease might come

From hate and man-made strife.

That here Romance might weave new

wreaths

To garland Youth and Life:

I dreamed that here strong men might woo

And sweetest maids might love.

■ind roses blow and roses bloom

Like red gifts from above.

I dreamed that Freedom dear might make

Her home for evermore

W here the green hills of Barrytown

Fall downward to the shore.

13

A BIRTHDAY WISH.

May all your years be fields of flowers.

Your life a stream of golden hours,

And every path your feet shall tread

Be streicn with roses white and red.

u

BROTHERHOOD AND HOPE.

The coaches came down through the gloom of the Gorge

Where Otira's dark shadows are thrown on the surge;

They came with their freightage of laughter and life

Where the snow waters swirl in a tvhirlpool of strife

Like lost legions of Hate by warrior kings led

Through the torrent-swept ways of the swift river’s bed;

And the hill-horses swerved to the pull of the rein.

Then swung to the curve of the roadway again —

The roadway that hangs like a shelf on the height

Or a ribbon that runs on the rim of the Night.

The coaches came down from the light of the day

And noisily rolled on the narrowing way;

15

But hushed was the laughter the traveller knows

When the sun falls in winter on white of the snoivs,

And hushed was the brave song that rises and swells

To the heights of that heaven where dearest Youth dwells;

And Age saw the shadows come sweeping to earth

Like wild clouds of Sorrow at Tragedy’s birth.

Oh, hushed was the laughter and silent the song

As though Night had befallen with triumph of Wrong.

But they looked to the hills where the tall timber lifts

Through the white of the mists and the rain cloud rifts,

And they saw on the heights whence the rivers are fed

The wild rata a-bloom like a warm flame of red

16

That flung the rich glow of its crimson between

The light and dark shades of a forest of green.

Then the laughter returned and the gloom fled away

As the hosts of the Night before advent of Day,

And gladness came back on the wings of the hours

Like the spring-time of song with Love’s garlands of flowers.

For Red is the symbol of World Brotherhood

To link all the race in a kinship of blood,

And Green stands for Hope that shall spring in each heart

Till the Captains of Wrong and the Kings shall depart.

17

OTIRA GORGE.

Where waters of the mountain rills Are seaward flung in foaming surge.

And high Otira’s frowning hills

Guard well the wild and rugged Gorge, Betimes the sun pours burning rays

Upon the whiteness of the snoivs. Till in the splendour of his blaze

The white is turned to gold and rose.

Betimes, too, where the hamlet lies. Beside the shingled river’s flow,

Men gaze on cloud-crowned hills that rise Majestic in their robes of snow;

And when the mists reluctant roll The mountain heights glow undefiled —

The symbol of a shining soul, The White Soul of a Little Child.

IS

MY DREAM.

My dream is of Life’s greater glory.

The depths of its fathomless deep,

The wind-wafted song of its story

That’s crooned for the workers who weep.

Yea! Life with its joy of all toiling —

Sweet rest. Earth’s cool and its calm:

Black shades of the Night-time recoiling

When Daylight comes laden with balm.

The Day-dawn with rose wreaths of splendour

Shall light all the lands of the free,

And Science, unshackled, shall wend her

Glad ways by the hills and the sea.

O, I dream not of glory that’s flaming,

Through folds of some star-spangled scroll,

Nor ever a dread God proclaiming

The flood-tides of vengeance shall roll.

19

My dream is of Life’s larger glory.

The heights of its measureless steep.

The thunder-crashed roar of its story

That wakens a world from its sleep.

2o

JOY OF FREEDOM.

There is joy in the roll of the ocean,

In the roar of the sea and its sweep.

And the heave and the swing of its motion

Is a presage of power from the deep.

There is joy when the new day is breaking

And bringing the fair Austral morn,

And the birds in the tall gums are leaking

To ivorship the tints of the dawn.

There is joy in the breath of the morning

W here the wheat-laden plains greet the sky.

And the hills with green robes for adorning

Lift their heads where the white vapours fly-

There is joy on the slopes of the mountains

And love where the long rivers flow,

Ever pouring their waters like fountains

To the vales from the uplands of snow.

21

O come learn a great lesson, my brothers,

From the heights of the hills and the sea.

From the songs of the birds and the others

Of Nature’s wide world that are free.

When we’ve broken the chains that have bound us.

Triumphant we’ll march Freedom’s way.

And the world shall grow radiant around us,

In the joy that is born of the day.

22

WHEN SHADOWS FLEE AWAY.

O, I have seen the red sun rise resplendent from the sea,

And grandly paint the wond’ring skies, irradiate the lea,

And, down where restless waters raced, fling tones of light and shade

That hand of artist never traced nor brush on canvas laid.

And high Monaco’s hills Eve seen, old as the world is old,

When ev’ry tow’ring peak of green was crowned with glint of gold;

When each glad leaf of each great tree wore gems of sparkling hue.

And, far as eye of mine could see, the sunshine kissed the dew.

O, I have heard the wild birds sing sweet songs to greet the dawn.

Have heard the dear old bushlands ring back to the splendid morn;

23

And oft Vve seen the great gold sun sink down to meet the night,

And garb the day—his work all done—in regal robes of light.

But never shine of morning sun, nor light upon the lea,

Nor rose-clouds when the day is done, nor colours on the sea.

Nor song of birds in bushlands wide, nor whisp’rings of the breeze,

Nor gold and green on mountain side, nor jewels on the trees.

Could such a gift of glory bring as comes with Freedom’s day

When this old world with song shall ring, and shadows flee away.

24

A FRAGMENT.

W hen my Life’s restless burning sun

Lias sunk behind Death’s mystic hills.

And all the evening bells are tolled.

And darkest shades of endless night

For ever shall envelope me:

O friends and countrymen of mine.

Mourn not for me as they who mourn

For one whose life was lived in vain;

And plant no cypress and no yew

To mark my final resting place;

But where in everlasting sleep

My wearied frame at last shall lie.

Come ye at Evensong and plant

Carnations red as my red blood

I gave the Cause that I held dear.

And blood-red roses that will draw

Their wealth of Life from dust of me,

And, with the stream of gold that flows

From fountains of the Eastern Dawn,

Bear to the world God's priceless gift —

The crimson wonder of their blooms —

While on the wings of Wind and Light

Their deathless fragrance sweeps along

The highways and the byways of the Day

25

SONG OF LABOUR.

I have huilded dream castles that towered

to an amaranth sky that was fair,

I have planted rose gardens that flowered

like rainbows in roadways of air;

But all my great castles have tumbled to

earth from each hyaline height.

And my red blooms have withered and

crumbled in the scorch and the blast

of Wealth’s Might.

I have seen in the clash of the battle the

Right ever conquered by Wrong,

The toilers all driven like cattle, with a

goad in the hand of the Strong.

I have fainted on roads of disaster and

watered their tvays with my tears.

And the rule of the robber, my master, has

trampled and tortured my years.

I have laboured in chains and have

languished in prisons for love of the Right,

1 have counted the years that Vve anguished

in gloom that toms born of the Night;

26

But I know that the hour of the dawning

that heralds the Sunburst of Day

Comes speeding on wings of the morning

with promise of Freedom's great sway.

Tho' battle-scarred, beaten, and broken, I

shall burst all the bonds of the Past,

And, with strength of the world for a

token, stand facing the dawn at long last.

For the hosts of the Wrong shall be scat-

tered, the foemen of Freedom shall fly.

And the rule of Oppression be shattered,

and Justice be lifted on high.

And again my fair castles are tow'ring

where God's greatest wonders are wrought.

And my splendid red roses are flouring

in luminous Gardens of Thought.

ar

MAY DAY SONG.

O the song-birds of Nature are singing

In the woodlands of Freedom to-day,

And the legions of Labour are bringing

Glad hearts for the greeting of May

For the light of May morning comes stream ing.

Where the Bastilles of W'rong barred the way,

And the workers are waking from dreaming

And marching from Darkness to Day

No longer their ranks shall be sundered,

Undivided they’ll stand in the fray,

And the shout of their challenge be thundered

In the red of the dawning of May.

2S

THE SPIRIT OF MAY DAY.

Her feet are on the peaks of Dawn,

Her eyes aglow with great desire —

She bears the promise of the morn

That heralds Day's gold orb of fire.

Her radiance shines from shore to shore,

4nd searchlights every storm-toss'd sea;

She spreads a crimson mantle o’er

The stricken lands she yet shall free.

And though the sun sink down in blood,

And though a million cannon roar,

ind shells of Death fly mocking God

O’er fields of Hate and reeking War;

And though the rivers' flow be red.

And blood be on the wide, wide seas,

And hosts of our unburied dead

Lie stark beneath the moaning trees;

29

And though fair Hope in terror dies

In blood-made mists of tragic fears.

And mothers lift their streaming eyes

In vain to God through dreadful years

Still on the tow’ring heights she’ll stand

And wait the dawn of Freedom’s Day;

In Brotherhood each warring land

Shell link on Labour’s First of May.

*)

TAKE HEART.

Art thou grown faint and weary

Tf ho fought so well for right?

Dost feel the Day is dreary

And long for Rest—and Night?

Hast knoivn the scourge of hunger,

And gone ill-clad and cold?

Hast seen the sleek wealth-monger

Trade men for gain of gold?

Say, is thy great heart bleeding.

Thy great soul racked with pain?

Dost dread that all thy pleading

For Right shall be in vain?

Take heart, 0 Man of Sorrow!

The coming day is bright;

The Sun shall rise to-morrow,

And flood the world with light.

31

MAN: WORLD TRIUMPHANT.

He marched from the dark and the dread of the ages.

He swept through the storm and the stress of the years.

And his records are written on rock-buried pages

Dark stained with his blood and deep scored with his tears.

He roamed from the far-distant realms of the savage.

From the heights of the trees, from the swamps and the caves,

From the rule of the club and the fang and brute ravage,

Ere the days of the years of the owners and slaves.

He wandered the ways of the long winding rivers.

On the lake's lonely shores flung the flame of his fires.

And he stalked, a grim warrior with arrows and quivers.

And dreamed his great dreams that were born of desires.

32

O he came by the wild roads of stiff ring and sorrow.

And the price that was paid for his Progress was Pain;

He prayed in the Night for the light of the Morrow,

And fled from the rage of the storm and its rain.

And ever by highway and by-way and meadow,

And ever by shine of the stars or day flame,

He trailed on the track of the ominous Shadow

Of Death that flung darkness the way that he came.

From his primitive hut and his closeclustered village,

And his fire-hardened vessels rude fashioned in clay,

From the wood-pointed plough and the ox of his tillage.

He marched for the dawn of a marvellous day.

33

First the logs of the trees that were burnt and rough-hollowed

He launched on the tide of the primeval stream,

Then builded the ships of the world that have followed

The seas rolling roads to the driving of steam.

And the furnaces fed on the slopes of the hill-heights

Through the days and the nights of that dark long ago,

Reflect in the glare of the great cities’ milllights.

Where the fires of new Hells paint the sky with their glow.

With the waves of the wind and his wireless word-wonders

He is linking the lands across limitless space,

And the source of the storm and its worldrending thunders

He is making the servant and slave of his race.

34

Afar in the heavens his air-ships are soaring And flooding the roof of the world with their light.

While hidden ’neath waves of the wild ocean s roaring

His submarine fleets are propelled in the night.

The dead planets of God that await Life’s returning

Where the gates of the roadways of Space swing ajar,

He has counted their years, and the suns that are burning

He numbers, and measures the light of each star.

O it’s true he’s the heir of the aeons and ages.

And lo! he is coming to claim all his own, To wrest from the owners and masters his wages

Unpaid through the years and the centuries flown.

And the great grinding mills where the children are sobbing.

35

The dread mines at whose gates stand the women who weep.

Iron ships that for ever go thrashing and throbbing

By the high-heaving ways of the sea's mighty deep.

And the fields and the woodlands all green in their gladness.

The long rivers like silver that flow to the lakes,

J he world stripped of its sorrow, its shame, and its sadness,

Shall he his when in splendour of strength he awakes.

For afar from the dark and the hate of the ages

He shall speed to the light and the love of the years,

He shall write on Life’s Scroll the tvorldtriumph the Sages

Saw dim through the mists of their blood and their tears.

36

OPPRESSION'S HANDS ARE RED.

In light shall break the golden days

And song-birds greet the morn,

But Labour walks the wild highways

With bleeding feet and torn.

For not a line that’s tvritten red

On History’s blood-stained page.

But tells of our heroic dead

In every tragic age.

And not a year that’s rolled away

~ j j In ken of Man or God,

But gibbet-marked the rock-strewn way

That Labour’s feet have trod.

With dungeon dark and rack and stake

They’ve mile-stoned all the years;

They’ve ringed the world with hearts that break

And blood and hitter tears.

And now! . . .The Dark Shades downward sweep.

And Liberty lies dead!

The Night Winds moan where Martyrs

SLEEP—

Oppression’s hands are red!

3T

THE RED STANDARD OF RIGHT.

I had marched from the plains for the splendid

Great heights of the uttermost Steep,

Then beaten and baffled I’d wended

By roads that led down to the Deep.

And I heard the winds sob in the morning

Ere the sun lit the sea with his glow,

And each eve bore the wail of a warning

On the wings of unutterable woe.

I was footsore, and fainting and weary

With my wounds in the battle of Life

And the gloom of a Night that ivas eerie ’

Like a spectre swept up to the strife.

But I lifted my eyes to the arches

Where the brilliants of Heaven are hung.

Saw a mdhon worlds swing on their marches

By ways that are wide and far-flung.

And I saw the red gold of the sunrise

Come swift in the ivake of the night,

And on the vast canvas of dun skies

Paint marvels of shade and of light.

38

And my heart that was heavy and aching

With the weight of the years far away,

Leaped up to the light that was breaking

And bringing new Life with the Day.

And I said to my Soul: ‘‘Banish sorrow.

For as sure as the Sun giveth light.

On the battlements of the To-morrow

We shall raise the red standard of Right.”

39

FREEDOM'S PIONEER.

His path is up Life’s dizzy steep.

And, oh, his world-worn feet are sore!

He treads the brink of chasms deep.

Where Death’s wild torrents foam and roar.

And as he toils Night spreads a pall

Above the rugged, rock-strewn way.

And shades of gloom for ever fall

Where is no light, where is no day.

Bloodhounds of Wrong bay on his track.

Gaunt wolves of Want glide through the gloom.

The traitor's dagger seeks his back,

Behind is Death, in front the Tomb.

The gibbet marks the way for him.

And far the frowning dungeon throws

Athwart the dark its blackness grim

To speak the hatred of his foes.

4o

Titanic storms burst through the night,

World-winds sweep down the Time-worn ways,

The tall trees moan in wild affright.

And Superstitition shrieks—-and prays.

But past the gloom and past the night,

Past chasms dread and rock-cliffs drear.

He sees the gleam of Hope’s glad light.

He dreams that Freedom’s dawn is near.

And high above Life’s storm his song

lie-echoes all the death-swept way.

He hurls defiance at the Wrong

And climbs the hills to meet the Day.

41

EUREKA: 1854.

What though they sleep in grass-clad tomb

For whom we twine this wreath,

Still shall they speak from out the gloom.

Still live though wrapt in death.

Ere yet the grey of breaking dawn

Had paled the Eastern sky.

To meet swift death that fateful morn

They rose, nor feared to die.

The bugle’s scream rang loud and long

And echoed hill to crag.

And Labour grappled with the Wrang

Beneath a five-starred flag.

Death swept the toilers’ barricade —

For Freedom dear they fell

Who met within that doomed stockade

The raining fire of Hell.

The men are dead, the women dead.

The children dead they bore,

But that far spot on which they bled

Is sacred evermore.

42

And long as Time’s great years shall run

And Freedom’s Voice hold sway.

Men shall acclaim the brave deed done

That dark December day.

And though they sleep in grass-clad TOMB

For whom we twine this wreath,

They still shall speak from out the GLOOM,

Still live though wrapt in death.

43

THEY SHALL TAKE AND HOLD.

There is want in the homes of the People,

The children are crying for bread,

And the Church sweeps the shy with a steeple

That shadoivs the graves of our dead.

There’s a wail in the wind at the dawning.

A sound of a sob in the sea.

There’s an evil that shudders when morning

Flings mantles of gold o’er the lea.

There is hate betwixt toiler and toiler,

And malice and envy and strife,

Labour lengthens the rule of the Spoiler With the plunge of the fratricide’s knife.

But there’s hope in the hearts of the Teachers,

Their gospel rings clear through the night —

Fair Freedom’s brave army of Preachers,

Who're learning Life’s lessons aright.

44

And the wage-slaves are waking from slumber

U here the lowlands are washed by the seas,

And each day-spring is swelling the number

Who'll fling their red flags to the breeze.

O the war-drums of Labour are throbbing

Their call from the depths of the years.

And they'll end the young children s wild sobbing

And sorrow of sad mothers' tears.

They shall take all the earth and its treasure.

They shall tear down the banners of W rang.

They shall hold all their wealth in full measure,

And gladden the world with their song.

45

NIGHT AND DAY.

It is Night—and the winds of the world ways are sobbing

Like captive souls chained in dark caverns of fear;

It is Night—and the hearts of the people are throbbing

With a dread that is drained from wild depths of despair.

But the Wrong that was born of long ages of Error

Shall be swept like the mists from the mountains away.

And the sword-flash of Freedom shall slay the Night’s Terror

And flame eastward the blue and gold triumph of Day.

46

SUNRISE.

Vunguarded by a light-robed dmvn

With rose-tints roving free.

The radiant sun rose yestermorn

Upon a sapphire sea;

Great golden arms of glowing might

Drove back each truant shade of Night

That lingered on the lea,

And far-flung shafts of Day’s glad light

Flamed high like Hope for Human Right

And Human Liberty.

■f/

REWANVI: A SONNET.

The pathway winds above the vale—

A deep wound in the hill’s steep side

That runs to where the raging gale

Roars past each mountain peak of pride.

The shadows fall like dark despair

Upon the rock beds of the rills;

But Love and Life are victors there —

The Sun is shining on the hills.

O toil-worn men, lift up your eyes!

O women, dry your scalding tears!

Behold the red glow in the skies —

Glad herald of the golden years.

See! Just beyond the Vale of 111

The Sun is shining on the hill.

4f

THE SUN GOD.

L

The Sun-God golds the azure sky.

And seeks in Night’s soft arms his rest,

And hung like purpled flames on high

His footprints mark the radiant West.

n.

The twilight pales the sunset day.

The planet swings ’twixt dark and light,

And mem’ries borne from far away.

Like lovers’ dreams, float through the night.

in.

The twilight sinks beneath the gloom,

The dread black banners are unfurled,

And silver’d o’er the sombre dome

The far-off fires of God’s star-world.

iv.

Faint, like the hope of Freedom’s dream,

The grey dawn steals across the night,

And in the East a glow, a gleam.

A living flame of golden light.

v.

The Sun-God lights the wondrous steep

Of the uncharted Eastern way.

And floods the vast unfathomed deep

Of Space with lambent fires of Day.

54

SOCIALISM.

i.

Night wraps in gloom the ancient hills —

The frowning world-old hills;

Restless in the land-locked bay

The waters mourn the unborn day.

But Earth swings ever to the sun,

And Time’s great sands will swiftly run

Though Night is on the hills.

ii.

The Dawn is on the eastern hills —

The fair rose-tinted hills;

The joyous waters of the bay

Toss sapphire kisses to the day.

And Hope thrills all the waiting world

Where hues of rose and gold unfurled

Fall softly on the hills.

in.

The Noon-day Shine is on the hills —

The rock-foundationed hills;

Gods sunlight gleams the water-ways.

Life's sunburst streams on Freedom’s days;

Sped are the years of hate and strife,

The world's a-throb with joy of life —

The Sun is on the hills.

5o

A WESTLAND SUNSET.

W / hen the Summer day teas dying

’Twixt the loivlands and the mountains,

And the westering sun teas hanging

Gold above the opal waters.

And the far sea flotoing landward

Filled the void with weirdest moaning;

In a car swept by the sun-glow.

On the reaches of the South road,

Awed I sat and out to westward

Saw the rich transfiguration

Of the arch of sunset Heavens —

Saw the white clouds interwoven

With the amaranth and crystal,

And the iridescent splendours

Of the colours of God’s making —

Wonder-lights of His creation

Flaming o’er a dying day.

Lower sank the gold orb nightward,

Higher rose the Vision Splendid —

Like unto a poet’s dreaming

Of a world with fields Elysian —

With the white clouds of the west sky

Flushing pink and red of roses,

Flashing lights of chalcedony,

51

Amethyst and blue of violets,

I! hile the masses of the dark clouds

Bordered were with richest purple;

And there flowed a stream all golden

through the high banks of the cloudlandt.

Like a flood of molten lava

From some ancient great volcano,

Doomed to plunge into unfathomed

Depths of Time's Eternal Sea.

Down behind the western tvaters

Sank the monarch of the day-time.

And the wonders opalescent —

With their rainbow scintillations,

With their rose-pink and Vermillion

And their wealth of golden flaming —

Swiftly faded from the skyscape,

Swiftly vanished when the twilight

Brought the gloaming and the grey skies.

Brought the I\ight with ghostly shadows

To the graveyard of the Day.

52

A CAPTIVE'S VISION.

A golden moon is gleaming

W here rolls a silver sea,

And the sad old world is dreaming

Of Life and Liberty.

From where the far moons swinging

The light falls fair and free;

And morroiv’s daivn is bringing

Glad news for you and me.

A dim grey light is breaking

Across the night of years.

And the strange old world is waking

And shaking off its fears.

Each throne shall rock and crumble.

Each prison chain shall rust;

Each black Bastille shall tumble

And moulder into dust.

5S

IN TIME OF WAR.

Storm-clouds of strife are raining blood

That mingles with a raped world’s tears

And Hatred rolls a reddened flood

Through vales of wrath to blackened

years.

.S4

PEACE ON EARTH.

In an Old Book’s mystical pages

There is written a wonderful story:

A vision and dream of the ages

With Peace for the crown of its glory.

It tells of a star-flame eternal

That lighted the field and the fen,

While the song of the Singers supernal

Floated down to the children of men.

In the Night of the W'orld they came bringing

To the far-away land of the East

A promise of Love in their singing.

When the wars of the world shall have ceased.

All scarred are the fields where the dying

But yesteryear lay with the slain,

Where Hell’s blackest banners were flying

And flaunting the triumph of Cain.

But I hear the refrain of a story

The Shining Ones sing from afar.

And all earth is reflecting the glory

Of a light that flames forth from a star.

33

O l abour! the song they are singing

Is the song of the Angels again.

And Peace! is the message they're bringing

And Goodwill to the children of men.

S6

THE WHITE CHRIST'S DREAM.

The stars went swinging on their ways,

The suns flung far their flashing rays,

And flying worlds gave birth to days

And mystic hours of night,

And the White Christ dreamed a dream of Love —

Its well-spring his white throne above.

Its messenger the swift-wing'd dove

Of world-wide Peace and Light.

Then o’er the restless human world

The Hell Fiend’s banners were unfurled.

And War’s black thunderbolts were hurled

In primal hate and rage.

And the White Christ rose from his fair dream

And saw the red torrential stream,

And heard the hurtling death shells scream -—

0 black and bloody age!

And millions died in field and glade.

Died in a strife they’d never made;

57

The White Christ deemed their dead lips prayed

For all the threatened years;

And the White Christ swore by the crimson flood.

Swore by the streams of Labour s blood,

That Labour’s Rule of Brotherhood

Should wipe atvay all tears.

And the stars go swinging on their ways,

And Hope shines like the golden rays

That paint the glory of the days

And banish dreadful night.

Fair Freedom comes with Peace and Mirth,

Great Labour hews earth’s thrones to earth,

And gives the White Christ’s dream its birth

In years of searching light.

.•>8

MAORILAND TO AUSTRALIA: OCTOBER, 1916.

O Austral world of sun and showers.

Of singing birds and glad wild flowers.

The Tasman rolls long tvaves between

Your sun-browned land and ours of green;

But clear across the swinging tide

To where your fields stretch far and wide.

To where your hills majestic rise

And cleave the blue of southern skies.

We that are bound and would be free

Speed you this message — nay, this plea:

Australia, stand for Liberty!

From mines and mills of Maoriland,

From where the teeming cities stand,

From forest homes, from harvest fields

Where Labour’s strength its tribute yields,

From mountain heights and from the sea —

Aye, from the tomb of Liberty,

We scan the vast horizon’s scope

For flash of light or gleam of hope.

For us the shackles are prepared,

The lash swings high, our backs are bared —

Australia, vote for Liberty!

59

O Labour strong, whose days of toil

Are ordered by the lords of Spoil,

Behold their record of the years

Writ oft in blood and oft in tears!

Behold the chains with which they'd bind

Your giant frame, your greater mind!

The fetters they for you prepare

Your children’s children yet shall wear —

Unless your “NO!” like thunder roll,

Unless you write on History’s scroll;

“Australia stands for Liberty!”

do

THE DEFEAT OF CONSCRIPTION.

As long as ever men shall write

In stirring words of epic song

The record of the Human Right

In mighty conflict with the Wrong;

As long as ever the mountains fling

Mens plaudits back for great deeds done.

As long as human hearts shall sing

With joy for bloodless victories won:

As long as ever the mirrored shies

Flash gold on the heights of the ancient hills.

As long as silver murm’rings rise

Like far-off music from the rills:

As long as ever the tides of the sea

Shall swing from distant shore to shore.

As long as storms shall rock the lea

And lightnings flash and thunders roar:

61

As long as I al our’s sons shall lift

7 heir longing eyes to higher heights.

And see beyond the black cloud's rift

The play of learning s golden lights:

The world shall echo your acclaim —

Australia fair, Australia free!

And from the South this truth shall flame:

Australia stood for Liberty!

o2

THE MOTHERS LEFT TO MOURN.

A million men of kindred race

Stand there in France —stand face to face.

Stand there beneath the shudd’ring skies

With hatred flaming in their eyes.

The flags of conquest fly unfurled

And legions are on legions hurled;

They strive for all the wide world’s marts

With murder raging in their hearts.

4nd as each blacker battle-day

Unto each blackest day succeeds.

Young lives like vapour melt away,

But ’tis the mother heart that bleeds.

One day the battle’s rage shall end,

One day the living men return.

But hearts shall break and never mend —

The hearts of mothers left to mourn.

68

WHEN THE WAR ENDED.

I saw the ships pour out their freight —

Their living freight of fighting men;

And through the early hours and late

I heard the welcoming—■and then

I saw the lads who came again

W'ith sore tvounds won in savage strife;

The maimed and wrecked and sightless men

W'ith never hope nor joy in life.

61

MY DREAM OF PEACE.

I dreamed the days of war were done.

And ended all the carnage red,

And ended all the strife of men:

“O blessed Peace!” I, dreaming, said.

And then I dreamed an awful thing:

I dreamed that when the men came back

There was no woman in the land

Who was not dressed in deepest black.

(S

MOTHERS OF MEN AND MILITARISM.

O the mothers of men! ’Tis their hearts that are breaking

While the war bugles scream and the war cannons roar.

For the mothers must pay for the raiding and wrecking.

The lost love of their lives is the price evermore.

O the mothers of men! ’Tis their children are dying

Ere the shine of the sun of their noonday of life;

And their bones bleaching white where the vultures are flying

For ever shall witness the sin of the strife.

O the mothers of men! Comes the sound of their weeping

Like the tvail of the tvind through the vales of the night;

And ’tis lonely and long the sad vigil they're keeping,

And their tears are like rain and their faces are white.

64

THE TWILIGHT OF THE KINGS.

The firemists swept o’er the fields of space

To the heights of the shining day —

Lo! a million years and a million years

And a world sped on its way.

And a thousand years and a thousand years

j ~ j The Kings of the Earth held sway.

And they drenched the soil with red of our blood

And they crimsoned the sea’s highway.

Wide lands that are laved by world-old streams

Their stricken harvest yields.

And blood is the price that we pay to the Kings

On reeking battlefields.

By tortuous ways of the primeval years

Back to the brute we fling.

And we rend and tear at the wild war call Of every blood-drunk King.

67

O the sun shall set on the sorrowing days,

And the reddened fields shall bleach,

Till our millions of dead that were slain for the Kings

Their silent lessons teach.

And the sun shall rise on a radiant morn And a Gospel new shall ring

Through a world redeemed—-with never a war

And never a war-mad King.

f>S

THE PATRIOT.

He was a wealthy patriot,

His lands were broad, his hands tv ere white.

His plutocratic blood was hot,

His very soul tvas in the fight

And he harangued the common crowd

And tvaved his gentlemanly arms.

Warned them in accents fairly loud

Of foreign foes and war’s alarms.

He told them of our Empire wide,

And traded all the platitudes,

Extolled the heroes brave who died

In battle-crimsoned latitudes.

He spoke the glories of our flag.

Our liberties, our gracious King;

He lashed the cowards who would lag:

They made the wailing welkin ring!

And then he told of all at stake —

Our homes, our country, and our wives:

‘This sacrifice Tis ours to make.

This glory ours to give our lives.”

<59

Right nobly well did they respond,

The men tvho wore the hob-nailed boots;

From near and far, back of beyond.

They flocked in crowds, the raw recruits.

And when the legions marched away

To dye with blood the distant loam.

He bravely cheered them on their way,

He ivaved a flag — and stayed at home.

7o

THIS IS LIVE.

The thunder smashing through the skies

God's signal guns of wild alarm.

The lightning flame that leaps and flies

From black-winged clouds of whirling storm.

The hurricanes that rage beneath,

Like Time in Titan-clash with Death,

The rock-bound ivorld for ever rife

With primal conflict — This is Life!

The storm-thrashed seas that roar and fling

And rise and fall like mountains hurled,

The white-green waves that sweep and swing

And crash upon a crumbling world,

The battle-shock of lands and seas

Through aeons and eternities.

The surge of elemental strife,

That thrills the planet — This is Life!

71

A STORM SONG.

Rage of the Storm and roar of the Sea,

The tumult rends Heaven asunder.

And all that is red and resurgent in me

Throbs to the force of a fierce ecstacy

Of Freedom’s desire

That runs like a fire —

Leaps like the lightning that leaps from the skies:

Blood of my life in glad riot replies

To the roll and the roar of the Thunder!

Rage of the Wind and surge of the Sea,

And shock of the primal World Strife:

Peal upon peal of a wild melody

1 hrilling the souls of the Sons of the Free!

The forked lightning flame

That hissed as it came

Out from the rift of the Heavens and Night

Stabbed through the Dark like a sicift

Sword of Light —

Hail! the Wild Storm of Life!

72

Roar of the Storm and roll of the Sea,

And ever the Hail’s sharp rattle!

Life's Song of Life is the world’s song of wonder:

God is proclaiming in tvorld-rocking thunder

His pride in the strife.

His Triumph of Life:

And where the Red Banners stream out for the Right

His own Lightning Flame in the black of the Night

Shall leap to light the battle.

73

WHEN I AM DEAD.

When I am dead

And you who fought the fight with me

Shall come to say the last farewell.

Let no sad funeral dirge be sung,

No Dead March ” played with dismal time,

Nor mournful beat of muffled drum

Before the hearse that bears me hence:

But let the silver cornets wake

The sleeping echoes of the hills

With vibrant notes that shall proclaim

There is no sting in Death for me.

No victory the Grave hath won.

O not in sorrow shall ye walk

In slow procession to my tomb.

But proudly march as though you come

To hail me victor in the fight —

W hen I am dead.

W hen I am dead

Dig me a grave on some high cliff

W hose rock-walls guard a sea-swept shore;

For I have loved the lofty hills

And loved the wide and restless sea;

74

And all the years of life I’ve known

Were ever lashed by storm and swept

By lightning flame and driving hail;

And I at close of day would sleep

Where all God’s wildest storms of Earth

Shall thunder requiems for me —

W hen I am dead.

Tb

The majority of the verses in this booklet appeared

originally in "The Maoriland Worker”; others in

“The International Socialist” ( Sydney) and the “Grey

River Argus". Several pieces have not been published elsewhere.

7b

THE MARXIAN THEORY OF VALUE.

H. E. Holland, M.P.

A Lecture delivered at Victoria College, Wellington (Prof. Mackenzie presiding).

Order from “The N.Z. Worker,”

Wellington.

Price, 3d. Per dozen, 2/-.

INDENTURED LABOUR: IS IT SLAVERY?

H. E. Holland, M.P.

Records of Forced Labour in the Congo, Putumayo, South Africa after the Boer War, New Guinea, etc.

Order from “The N.Z. Worker,”

Wellington.

Price, 3d. Per dozen, 2/-.

77

MR. MASSEY’S LIBERAL SUPPORTERS.

A Record of a Number of the Principal Divisions of the last Ten Years—and especially during and since the War.

Compiled by H. E. Holland, M.P.

Order from “The N.Z. Worker,” Wellington.

Price, 6d. Per dozen, 5/-. 78

ARMAGEDDON OR CALVARY.

By H. E. Holland, M.P.

A Concise History of the unthink-

able persecution of the Conscientious

Objectors of New Zealand during

the World War.

Order from “The N.Z. Worker,”

Wellington.

Paper Covers, 2/-.

RED ROSES ON THE HIGHWAYS. And other Verses.

By H. E. Holland, M.P.

Order from “The N.Z. Worker,”

Wellington.

Paper Covers, 2/-.

79

BOY CONSCRIPTION AND CAMP MORALITY.

H. E. Holland, M.P.

Facts concerning the Army Camps

of India, England, France, and

elsewhere.

Order from "The N.Z. Worker,

Wellington.

Price, 3d. Per dozen, 2/-.

SAMOA.

H. E. Holland, M.P.

The tragic story of the Samoans

under the tripartite control of Ger-

many, Britain, and America, fo-

gether with the tearing up of Trea-

ties and the bartering of Territories

and Peoples.

Order from "The N.Z. Worker,”

Wellington.

Price, 3d. Per dozen, 2/-.

So