SUNRISE ON MT. EGMONT.

Hawera Star, Volume XLVIII, 9 August 1924, Page 14

SUNRISE ON MT. EGMONT.

Our Whareroa correspondent writes: I tender herewith a composition in verse from a youthful lover of poetry. It u ill indicate that the strenuous, and sometimes sordid, duties of farm life need not always eclipse the finer feelings. The writer has gained first prize m composition at the Winter -show for two years in succession, and appears to have a, decided talent in the expression of ideas for one so yfung. The sun is rising o’er the eastern hills, its first pink beams tint Ejgmont’s snowy c-rown, As, grim and stately, in the grey of dawn, It stands alone, forever gazing down. Lpon the plains that nestle round its foot. And stretch far out until they meet the sea. Which, dark and threatening in the first grey light, Awakens nthv, and murmurs peacefully. The pink flush crowning Egmont-’s sombre hues Enlightens all the grandeur of its form, As, rising steeply from the plain below', Its rugged slopes resist the winter’s storm.

But now no stormy gale its gaunt sides beat; No faintest breeze its treetoos gently sway • The faint pink tinge is turning softly gold, As nature smiles upon the coming day. No worldly gold e’er equals this softtint That Nature showers with such lavish hand; No artificial beauty e’er attains To such a height of glory, howe’er planned. But, as I look, the gold is fading fast; Ah! that such beauty could for ever stay; My world would then be happiness indeed, Mith such sweet sights to gaze on day by day. And now. alas, the gold has disappeared, The sun is rising higher in the sky; The snow-capped Egmont is a glistening white Beneath the sunbeam’s full intensity. And through the day no beauteous visions bright, Lpon its white crest greet my saddened eye; For glories such as these can never last, And always, somewhere, must the shadows lie. And when the darkness, falling once again. Its cloak of blackness settle o’er the land, I wait, in eager longing for the dawn, Which once again will bring those beauties grand. That lovely pink, and that ethereal gold, Which* ever, in my restless mind, shall live, Where’er tipon life’s rugged track I go. The beauties which the earth alone can give. The glories scattered there by Nature’s hand— The loveliness no man will e’er surpass— That perfect vision of the earth, the sky, And sea, that is the sky’s own lookingglass.