Countrywomen
These be two Countrywomen. What a size! Grand big arms And round red faces; Big substantial Sit-down-places; Great big bosoms firm as cheese Bursting through their country jackets; Wide big laps And sturdy knees;
There was a Child Once
There was a child once. He came to play in my garden; He was quite pale and silent. Only when he smiled I knew everything about him, I knew what he had in his
The Earth-Child in the Grass
In the very early morning Long before Dawn time I lay down in the paddock And listened to the cold song of the grass. Between my fingers the green blades, And the green blades
In the Rangitaki Valley
Valley of waving broom, O lovely, lovely light, O hear of the world, red-gold! Breast high in the blossom I stand; It beats about me like waves Of a magical, golden sea The barren
The Sea-Child
Into the world you sent her, mother, Fashioned her body of coral and foam, Combed a wave in her hair’s warm smother, And drove her away from home In the dark of the night
Sorrowing Love
And again the flowers are come, And the light shakes, And no tiny voice is dumb, And a bud breaks On the humble bush and the proud restless tree. Come with me! Look, this
Butterfly Laughter
In the middle of our porridge plates There was a blue butterfly painted And each morning we tried who should reach the Butterfly first. Then the Grandmother said: “Do not eat the poor Butterfly.”
There Is a Solemn Wind Tonight
There is a solemn wind to-night That sings of solemn rain; The trees that have been quiet so long Flutter and start again. The slender trees, the heavy trees, The fruit trees laden and
Song of Karen, the Dancing Child
(O little white feet of mine) Out in the storm and the rain you fly; (Red, red shoes the colour of wine) Can the children hear my cry? (O little white feet of mine)
Now I am a Plant, a Weed
Now I am a plant, a weed, Bending and swinging On a rocky ledge; And now I am a long brown grass Fluttering like flame; I am a reed; An old shell singing For
Deaf House Agent
That deaf old man With his hand to his ear His hand to hi head stood out like a shell, Horny and hollow. He said, “I can’t hear,” He muttered, “Don’t shout, I can
To God the Father
To the little, pitiful God I make my prayer, The God with the long grey beard And flowing robe fastened with a hempen girdle Who sits nodding and muttering on the all-too-big throne Of
Opposites
The Half-Soled-Boots-With-Toecaps-Child Walked out into the street And splashed in all the pubbles till She had such shocking feet The Patent-Leather-Slipper-Child Stayed quietly in the house And sat upon the fender stool As still
The Secret
In the profoundest ocean There is a rainbow shell, It is always there, shining most stilly Under the greatest storm waves That the old Greek called “ripples of laughter.” As you listen, the rainbow
The Wounded Bird
In the wide bed Under the freen embroidered quilt With flowers and leaves always in soft motion She is like a wounded bird resting on a pool. The hunter threw his dart And hit