Page:A New Zealand verse (1906).pdf/65

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A Leave-taking.
29
And my spirit of singing deliver In the old hidden birthplace of song,Sitting fast by the rapid young river With trees overarched, by no strong  Sun or moon ever parched.
A singing place fitter than vessel Cold winds draw away to the sea,Where many birds flutter and nestle And come near and wonder at me,Where the bell-bird sets solitudes ringing: Many times I have heard and thrown downMy lyre in despair of all singing; For things lovely what word is a crown  Like the song of a bird?
That haunt is too far for me wingless, And the hills of it sink out of sight,Yet my thought were but broken and stringless, And the daylight of song were but night,If I could not at will a winged dream let Lift me and take me and setMe again by the trees and the streamlet; These leagues make a wide water, yet  The whole world shall not hide.
For the island secure in my spirit At ease on its own ocean rides,And Memory, a ship sailing near it, Shall float in with favouring tides,Shall enter the harbours and land me To visit the gorges and heightsWhose aspects seemed once to command me, As queens by their charms command knights  To achievements of arms.
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