FRAGMENTS.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 16738, 20 May 1922, Page 4

FRAGMENTS.

Come away with me out on a fanciful flight, On the wings of the wind, where tha old ways invite i For they call with insistence That brooks no resistance. From out the dim distance Through Time’s purple light. As fleet as wild horses of Kamgaroa Plain When they flee from the hunter, we’ll traverse again The widths of those lone ways Of great nature’s own wavs— Those wild overgrown ways That virgin lemain. We’ll watch at the breaking the rose tints of dawn. Ere the sun’s rising rays to Ruapehu are borne When the grey mists are winding The forms of their finding. In braids of loose binding. The peak to adorn. And we’ll gaze where the falls of the Waikato sweep. Flung headlong, white foaming, spray tost as they leap, Deep soughing and surging; Rock rifted diverging Then calmly converging As though locked in sleep. We will rest by Lake Taupo, as sun kissed she lies. As a habe in her tot with the blue in her eyes, With green quilt around her. In which nature wound tier. Close tucked as we found her. As pure as the skies. Then back to Otira, like arrows swift j speed, Where the rata’s rich blossom of crimson is spread From brushes unending A radiant flush lending. Enhanced by the blending Of green and of red. We’ll hoar as we’ve heard it, the sweet choir in song— Those bards of the bush, where the best bards belong—hire the dawn grey and dewy, Led by bell and by tui. Till the weka’s shrill coo-ce At eve stills their throng. There we’ll watch the red sun take the sea in the west ; And we’ll gaze on the cloud forms all gorgeously drest, Fantastic and glowing. In flash of fire showing. Then changing and going In robes to rest. To eastward we’ll watch the moon ris£ from the sea. With her arrows of gold scattered broadcast and free To the waves l.ghtly lifted Like opals soft sifted. Cold pierced and shore drifted In bright brilliancy. Like rose* we treasured when love was in Spring Are the scenes we would set in the song that we sing—Dried petals sweet smelling, Of other da vs telling ; To mem’ry’s impelling These fragments we bring. T. E. L. ROBERTS.