New Zealand Verse/Wednesday

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XXIII.

Wednesday.

Come, let’s be friends—this day of bliss Was surely meant for happy eyes—Or sign, at least, an armistice Till quarrelling winds arise.
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On this green headland we will stay Till day has spent his golden hoard;See the cloud-shadows on the Bay Mark out a chequer-board.
These ships shall be our playing men; Mine is the schooner, calm-bestead;Yours is the brig that tacks in vain To clear the Burning Head.
Mine, mine has won! She fills, she soars, She sails into the azure day;A wild wind shakes the mountain doors, And sweeps our board away!

Anne Glenny Wilson.

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