Page:A New Zealand verse (1906).pdf/156

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To the Makomako, or Bell-bird.

LXXIII.

To the Makomako, or Bell-bird.

(Now rapidly dying out of our land.)

Merry chimer, merry chimer, Oh, sing once more, Again outpour,Like some long-applauded mimer, All thy vocal store.
Alas! we now but seldom hear Thy rich, full note Around us float,For thou seem’st doomed to disappear, E’en from woods remote.
Some say the stranger honey-bee, By white men brought, This ill hath wrought;It steals the honey from the tree, And it leaves thee naught.
The songsters of our Fatherland We hither bring, And here they sing,Reminding of that distant strand Whence old mem’ries spring.
But as the old we love the new; Fain we’d retain Thy chiming strain,Thy purple throat and olive hue: Yet we wish in vain.
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