The men, too, are sad; but to-morrow
The fish will be big, and fat, and many.
I heard the bird singing a pleasant song.
He sang of food; he also sang of love.
The name of this bird is known to me,
But I will not tell it till we meet under the moon.
The stranger, with his face so ugly and pale,
Has come from far over the sea.
He loves us, he says; but a Maori maid