Page:A New Zealand verse (1906).pdf/231

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Sonnet.
195

CXXXIII.

“My Pipe is Small.”

My pipe is small, but I will labour hard That naught but melody shall issue thence; And though the song, tumultuous and intense,Inspired of passion, is to me debarred,Yet in some golden moments happy-starred Apollo holds me in a sweet suspense, Breathless and rapt—and straining every sense,I hear his lyre, and great is my reward.
And O! what joy when song has wed to it The clanging choral music of the sea,Or whirr of birds that in green shadows flit With brisk and timid flight from tree to tree!—When sounds like these find voice in what is writ, O happy poet! how I envy thee!

Ebenezer Storry Hay.

CXXXIV.

Sonnet.

There be some songs that, whosoever singeth,Still fall in measured cadence on the ear;And soft and slow their music ever ringethAdown the weary waning of the year.
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