THE COMING OF THE MAORIS

Press, Volume LXXIV, Issue 22305, 20 January 1938, Page 3 (Supplement)

THE COMING OF THE MAORIS

“Farewell,” they cried. And dipped the oars T’ward open sea. With many a pause To look once more. With saddened eyes. Where their green isle Met cloudless skies.

’Ere Maui’s sun Had sunk to rest, A storm arose From out the west. Tossed those canoes In danger great; And all on board Awaited fate.

The Maoris’ joy Knew not its bounds When winds and waves Dire warning sounds Were wafted far Across the sea. And calm became The waters free.

A month had passed, But not a sign Of land appeared Those hearts so fine To cheer again. The food was low, The water gone; What tides of woe!

Their numbers shrah Each day and night. And still no land Arose in sight.

Too weak to row At any speed. Were all. for they Then felt food’s need

At last, one day In the sixth week, The weary watch In glad hope shrieked, “I see ahead A long white cloud— It’s land! It’s land! Oh, Chief Makau!”

With cheerful hearts And strength quite new, The Maoris rowed, And nearer drew With every stroke To that strange land; Until, at last, They touched its sand. —ISABEL, EDEN (aged 13), . Wakanui.

ONCE

Once I was a monarch’s daughter, And sat on a lady’s knee; But am now a nightly rover Banished to the ivy tree.

Crying hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo, Hoo, hoo, hoo, my feet are cold. Pity me. For here you see me Persecuted, poor, and old. —ANONYMOUS.

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