THE MOA

New Zealand Illustrated Magazine, 1 November 1900, Page 160

THE MOA

Tn forest deeps, where the sunlight creeps And struggles vainly through The veil of leaves, which Nature weaves, And keeps for ever new ; Where the rata vine to the rimu five Clings with a Judas kiss ; Where blooming flowers make fitting bowers For a fairer wbrld than this ; Where tho ferny sod, by man untrod, Is tender, and green and soft ; Where the weka might raisd her curious gaze To the tui that sings aloft; Where the cataract shakes the woods, and wakes The eohoes of rock and glen— In the cool, dark shade of a punga glade, The Moa has made his den. In the deepest grot of this secret spot Does the Moa choose to dwell ; And whitened bones, round circled stones, Of his slaughtered victims tell.

Now harsh, shrill cries of rage arise High over the cataract's boom, For the mighty bird has a footstep heard, And he sounds the huntsman's doom. Brave Maori ! Here thy club and spear Are weapons weak and vain ; The feathered foe has laid thee low— Thou ne'er shalt hunt again ! The Moa's young shall pluck thy tongue Warm from its quivering root, And thy bones, picked bare, shall to men declare The victory of the Brute. ***** But not for aye was the Moa's sway ; Men's powers of mind were stirred ; The Maori lives ; but where survives The mighty, wingless bird ? Extinct, effaced, unknown, untraced, By forest, hill, or plain ; But, where he fell, his bones still tell The triumph of God-like Brain! J. Liddell KelliT.