Sound

Dominion, Volume 31, Issue 54, 27 November 1937, Page 9 (Supplement)

Sound

JT was after rain. The sun was struggling through wispy clouds when I peeped through the peeling white gate of the little cemetery. Over all hung the speaking quiet of a dream. Suddenly there was sound, so beautiful that I caught my breath with the wonder of it. . . . Beside a newly-dug grave, amidst a green tangle, a Maori wahine was kneeling and singing, sadness and sweetness blended in her voice. Before, the world was listening, waiting, but now the damp earth breathed beneath my feet, rain-washed manuka trembled, and drifting gorse rustled like torn silk. A bird, with a startled cry, flew from browning tussocks and winged its way up, up, against clearing skies. The rush of the rivet became more distinct and it seemed that the silver arpeggios were an accompaniment to the notes that would never leave that place from that time. I felt like a trespasser. Slowly, and on tip-toe, I stepped on to the road again. And then—there was silence. The spell was broken, but such beaut}’ as I had just heard would live. It was not for all, but those who understood, would feel the song echoing in the far blue of the hills, mingling with the harp-music of the pines, or at dusk when the riversprites leap from the green glass of the rapids. It could not die, in the hidden casket of memory one shining gem would always catch the pale gleam of light. . . . —Nannie the Gnome (16), Napier.