New Zealand Verse/After Sunset
XXXV.
After Sunset.
Over my head the skylark singeth,
Though the sun hath set and the night draws nigh ;
What is the message the sweet song bringeth?
Is it a hint that a day gone by—
Gone by—gone by—may return again,
And the time of waiting go past like rain?
Though the sun hath set and the night draws nigh ;
What is the message the sweet song bringeth?
Is it a hint that a day gone by—
Gone by—gone by—may return again,
And the time of waiting go past like rain?
The lark still sings as he upward flieth
Through the dusk-blue air, and the notes drop down
To the listening earth, and my heart that crieth
For the breath of spring and the summer’s crown.
Ah! crown of summer, dost hang as far
As over the skylark that lone white star?
Through the dusk-blue air, and the notes drop down
To the listening earth, and my heart that crieth
For the breath of spring and the summer’s crown.
Ah! crown of summer, dost hang as far
As over the skylark that lone white star?
Oh, lonely star! But the song hath ended,
The purple mountains grow darker yet;
Soon will the crimson and grey be blended,
And nought to tell where the sun hath set;
The blue dusk deepens, more stars there be:
What is the promise ye hold for me?
The purple mountains grow darker yet;
Soon will the crimson and grey be blended,
And nought to tell where the sun hath set;
The blue dusk deepens, more stars there be:
What is the promise ye hold for me?
Where the hills drop down to the sea which spurneth,
For ever and ever, the patient land;
Where the blue hills melt to the blue sky, burneth
A distant fire like a love-lit brand.
My path descends, and it goes from sight,
But I know it is strong for the coming night.
For ever and ever, the patient land;
Where the blue hills melt to the blue sky, burneth
A distant fire like a love-lit brand.
My path descends, and it goes from sight,
But I know it is strong for the coming night.
O stars and fire! is your inward meaning
To tell of a day which is yet to be?
Of an hour when Time shall go backward leaning
To pluck white roses and red for me?
When the joy which is past shall come back—come back—
With a threefold strength that shall nothing lack?
To tell of a day which is yet to be?
Of an hour when Time shall go backward leaning
To pluck white roses and red for me?
When the joy which is past shall come back—come back—
With a threefold strength that shall nothing lack?