A MEMORY

Evening Star, Issue 19026, 22 August 1925, Page 3

A MEMORY

They,' surged through the streets Of Dunedin town, / They poured from the trams on the steep hillside, And the roads to the harbor leading down. Were none too many and none too wide. Men and matrons and maids galore, All afoot for the harbor shore, All agaze at the flowing tide. Good cause for haste—it is past midday; The long grey ships, tied to wharf and pier, Filled with the “ Jackies ” so bright and gay, Are casting moorings and warping clear, Slipping clear beyond sight or call. Fifteen vessels there were in all. Outward bound through the lower bay. Ten days before, from the stormy sea, The long grey ships came a-sailing in. ' We had not known then how prompt they’d he, And only guessed from the sirens’ din That white-capped lads from the U.S.A. To far Dunedin had found their way; Our cheers were few and our ranks were thin. The mayor came on the morning scene. Smiling his smile so debonnaire; The admiral, with a lordly mein, Welcoming to our city fair. Boldly for us he prophesied: “ Hearts and homes shall be opened wide— You shall he welcome everywhere.” Those fair-faced lads as ashore they stept, With curious speech and laughing eyes. Into our hearts and homes have leapt, Much to our insular surprise. Celtic and Saxon, Dane and Scot, Into onr arms we’ve swept the lot, Held to us by a thousand ties.

They come no more, but the tale they'll tell, When old men sit by the winter fire, Of maids 'neath the Southern Cross who dwell, Dainty and winsome in sweet attire; And, oh! how often they long to go, Where the tuis sing and the kowhais blow, , To the land and the lass of their heart’s desire. W.B.S. Dunedin, August 20.