AN AUTUMN EVENING IN DUNEDIN.
Fair was the day, the day that now is dying ; Blue was the sky that now is turning grey ; Cold comes the night, with voices faintly sigh-
mg O'er summer dead, o'er flower-time passed away. Out from a nook in honeysuckle bowered, A nest in th' heart of all green things that grow, With late white kloonas of climbing jasmine showered, We gaze beyond the town that lies below. Out o'er the slopes set thick and covered greenly With native bush and climbers interlaced, With here and there a wild pine, towering queenly, Full half her height by tangled vines embraced. Out o'er the hives with human business
thronging ; Out o'er church spires that point the way on high ; Out past the signs of love and hate and long-
ing; Out, far "beyond, where ocean touches sky,
The sea this morn was like a sapphire, glint-
ing With deep and changeful vivid light and life; Now it lies still, with softened turquoise tint-
wig. Taking due rest ere driven again to strife. Yet the great voice, above the city's murmur,
"The yoice of many waters," ne'er at peace, Breaking alike on fairer shores or firmer, , Sounds the old rhythm that nevermore may cease." The long Peninsula, flecked green and yellow, Lying quiescent 'neath the lingering sun, With fields all harvested, serene and mellow, Rests like a toiler when his toil is done ; A brooding guardian, keeping ward of ocean And city both, protecting, silent, strong; Watching with quiet eyes the busy motion That naught can still where human intsresis throng. The hills around, whereto mine eyes, uplifted, May reap the promise given- "whence cometh strength" ; Tho silent trees, from which the leaves have
drifted, Tell of the night that conies to us at length. One tall pine stands alone, with spire sharppointed, Against a sky of pink and saffron blent; And, nearer home, a drooping ash, anointed 'With Autumn's touch, sheds foliage goldbesprent. On yonder slope, across the mile-wide hollow That parts this hill from that, God's Acre lies, Thick-sown with quiet dead, where dead still follow To th' peace that comes when Death seals weary eyes. A silver mist stv eaps up the harbour swiftly,
A tiny sail breaks throiigh it like a wing • One flash — then gone — as all small craft adrift he In that white shroud 'that finds them linger-
ing. A lark, beguiled to joyon-s swift uprising, Goes -soaring, showering jubilant notes like
rain; Then sacs the time is sunset, not sun-rising,
And drops in sudden silence down again. The mold tress stir with a rustling shiver, Tho beech and sumach, shed a red-gold shower; A chill breeze sets the late flowers all aquiver; Earth holds her lap for Autumn's leafy dower. O'er Kaikorai the sun, in royal splendour, Goes down, hut leaves his trailing glory here ; And hills and sea, and mist and trees, all
render Tribute in colours to the time of year. And then — all grey! All gone the vivid bright time ! And then the dark — the dark that conies to all! And thoughts fly -swift, like homing birds at night-time, To friends whose voices thro' our niemory call. Then turn we hearthward; may our fires burn brightly! Then close our shutters ; may we close out fear! Then turn we friendward, hand in hand clasped tightly; Lord of the Seasons, bend a listening ear<
Give us content, tho' called to sacrificing:
Give us true courage, that we bravely bear
All that may hap — to our weak souls' enticing ; Give us good hope, and peace that all xauy share. Give us repentance — ere we reach regretting;
Give us wide mercy, for the worst and best; Give, above all, the clear boon of forgetting Wrong, sin, and sorrow as we near our rest. — Thohpe TaLbot.
Maori Hill, 1905.
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