Page:A New Zealand verse (1906).pdf/150

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114
Te Raupo.
“Not waiting sadly to die a-cold,My petals trampled in rotting mould,But rapt and lost when my life is pastIn the shining spaces of air at last.”

William Pember Reeves.

LXIX.

Te Raupo.

Down in a valley,Hemmed in by mountains,Ripples a riverVivid and verdant.Foot may not ford it,Craft may not stem it;Which way the wind blows,So sets its current.
Home of the old witch,Fain she would lure theeDown to destruction,Whispering softly:“Come tread my raupo,Safe it will bear theeO’er the morass.”Deaf to her charming,Deaf to her wooing,Pauses the wise man;Ay, though each raupoBends in obeisance,Whispering “Try us.”
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