Page:A New Zealand verse (1906).pdf/183
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Miroa’s Song.
147
I think it must be owing to the idle life I leadIn the dreamy house for ever that this new bosom-weedHas sprouted up and spread its shoots till it troubles me indeed With a restless weary feeling—such a sad sweet pain!
So in this pleasant islet, O no longer will I stay—And the shadowy summer-dwelling, I will leave this very day;On Arapa I’ll launch my skiff and soon be borne away From all that feeds this feeling, O this fond sweet pain!
I’ll go and see dear Rima—she’ll welcome me I know,And a flaxen cloak, her gayest, o’er my weary shoulders throw,With purfle red and points so free—O quite a lovely show— To charm away this feeling—O this sad sweet pain!
Two feathers I will borrow, and so gracefully I’ll wear,Two feathers soft and snowy for my long black lustrous hair;Of the Albatross’s down they’ll be—O how charming they’ll look there— All to chase away this feeling—O this fond sweet pain!
Then the lads will flock around me with flattering talk all day—And with anxious little pinches sly hints of love convey;And I shall blush with happy pride to hear them . . .} I daresay . . . And quite forget this feeling, O this sad sweet pain!