PRIZE POEM.

Otago Witness, Issue 2692, 18 October 1905, Page 32

PRIZE POEM.

Subjoined is the poem by Mies E. A. Howes, of Gore, which secured first place in the original poem competition, judged by Mr A. Wilson, M.A. :— Eabth's Weeping Place. When Rangi from the weeping Earth was torn, And Tane, God of Light, had used his power To aid these sundered lives and make them - fair, From lonely Earth a cry of pleading rose. " Well hast thou done, O Tane, God of Light! And well deservest thou our loving thanks. Robed in starred garments, and on clouds enthroned, At morn and eve in crimson mantle wrapped, Great Rangi sits on high. And for myself Much also hast thou done. My rock-bare hills Now by thy power burst into leaf and bud And opal-tinted wealth of flowers; and birds Sing through my branches their sweet songs of love ; And all my land is gay with life and joy in life. But I must weep! Apart from him I lov« What joy is there for me? What song to sing? The night leaves fallen tears iipon my breast From Rangi's longing eyes. We stretch our arms And clasp each other's hands where sky meets earth, And from my eyes soft mists of tears rise up T tell him that I !ovs him, still, But I, If I should weep, as I must weep, or die, Should dull the fairness of your handiwork, — Should break the song and kill the joy of life. Therefore, make me a place where I may weep Unseen, where Rangi's eyes may find me not, To sorrow at my sorrowing, and where My tears may work no harm. O Tane! hear, And make a place where I may bide my grief." And Tane, pitying, heard, and made a place Where she might weep uDseen. He chose a vale Between two mighty hills, and in it set Great trees; whose- verdure ne'er should fail, whose boughs, •• Thick laced through all the seasons' change, should hide Her spirit's woe. Beneath the trees he placed Ferns like to trees — those noblest fronds that tower Like kings, and spread wide gracious arms above Their weak and lesser kin. And then he brought All things that sweetest and most lovely are, — All things of fairy form and varied hue, — And placed them here: green beds of velvet moss, And hanging tender ferns, and fruited vines; Rich drapes of gold and crimson flowers, and stars Of white that clung and glimmered through the trees, And later changed to floating silver balls. Then bright-eyed things that creep and fly he brought, And flit of wings was there, and bell-birds chime, And busy secret lives of moth and bee. At last his work was done. No fairer spot, More meet for her, could be. Then entered in The mourning Earth, and here unseen she weeps, Bathing tha fragrant slopes with her sad tears. And down the sweet drops fall, till fern and moss . Stand shimmering in her grief, and the mild trees Lay soft hands en her brow to comfort hen