MAORILAND'S BUSH.

Otago Witness, Issue 3111, 29 October 1913, Page 62

MAORILAND'S BUSH.

O, who has not lived in the bushland. Or stayed there, or wandered, or lost His way in the midst of the trees, Whose boughs, like a network, are crossed; Where seldom a gleam from high heaven Is seen, or a bird’s note is heard, And the light from the stars never filters Thro’ leaves by the breeze scarcely stirred 1 Where, deep in the shade of the tree trunks,

The rata its red flower flings To the blue vault above, and, entangled, Like demon’s arms, lingers and clings To the kauris, and crushes the heart from The giants of bushland serene Till the devilish creeper has made them The ghosts of the trees they had been.

O, who has not travelled, as I have, The deep forest aisles, all alone, Where spirits seem passing and singing A wonderful hymn of their own; While round me and over and under The manifold sighs of the wind (Like an echo of far-disfant thunder) Bring sadness and peace to the mind; Where, far in the forest recesses. The creek, bubbling over its stones, Sings songs to its green water-cresses And ferns, where the humble bee drones; Where lakes, with their surface of Lilies, lie dank in their fastnesses pearled, And never see sunlight or shadow, But only the gloom of the world!

O, lonely old forests of fancy! O, hidden wild places afar From towns and the murk of the cities, Where only the business men are! (Where noise of the streets, loudly rasping. Is mingled with uproar and dust) 0, mighty old forests, my spirit I give you, to keep in 3’our trust! To guard, and protect, and impassion With songs that are grander than thine, Till over me Poetry, creeping, Descends, and I know She is minel Till I take up my pen for a story, "While round me the winds loudly “woosh,” And I sing, in my eong, of the glory Of the Maoriland bush.

_ . , —E. L. Evre lui street, Devonport, Auckland.