THE MAORI BOY'S LAMENT.

Otago Witness, Issue 1891, 17 February 1888, Page 29

THE MAORI BOY'S LAMENT.

I'm but a little Maori boy— My melancholy eyes Observe you busy British folk With idolent surprise. I wonder why you care to toil, • To study, work, and scheme, When you might in the sunshine lie, Like me, and idly dream ? There was a time, my people tell, When white man's foot had ne'er Been planted on our bush-clad hills That roae as free as fair ; And then our fathers liv'd a life So jovial, free, and bold 1 I often wish that I'd been born In those grand days of old I No ugly school, intrusive, then Uprose amid tho fern, Wherein poor little boys like me Uneasy tasks must learn. But chieftains, gorgeously tattoo'd, Stalk'd undisturb'd among The rustling flax,— and knew no lore But the soft Maori tongue ! Those days will nevermore return, — And it will come to pass, That as our native tussock fails Before the English grass, So, in the ruthless coming years, 'Twill be our people's doom To fade away from out the land, To give the white man room 1 — Wych Elm. Moeraki, February 3.