Page:A New Zealand verse (1906).pdf/283

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A Temple Service.
247
A writing for the scrolls of scribes,  The graven gatesThat tell the triumphs of the tribes  On brazen plates.
priests.
Wherefore the heavy hearts and sad      Be grown all glad,And rainbow light in eyes yet rimmed      By grief that dimmed.
Wherefore the mouth by mourning mute,      The feeble foot,Hath joy in it as meat and bread,      Is strong of tread.
people.
In garden ground the summer burns,  Not yet grown old,And on the corn whose colour turns  From green to gold ;
But harvest men, before they make  The sickle sharp,Go up to keep the days sweet sake  With heart and harp.
priests.
It falls within the twofold time:      The youngest primeOf fruit, the latest looks of flowers,      Are on its hours.
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