Page:A New Zealand verse (1906).pdf/205

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My Song.
169
Hid in her cloudy woof A song that doth unfold Itself in plaited gold.
Sing what I ne’er can say— The wave may love the shore, The flowers the dews that pour,The tired winds love to stay On cliffs where moss has lain, Spent with the toiling main. . . .
Dearer to me one heart Where I would love to dwell, Woven with magic spellInto its inner part, Sunk in its secrecy Like a star in the sea.

Hubert Church.

CVIII.

My Song.

I bade my love Good-night, So loth to partWith her, the deep delight Of this true heart, My queen of pearls! My lily of girls!And when her light was low, And all was still,Saving that rapturous flow— The lone bird’s trill,    I said:
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