Some day we may drop the Farewell Light, and lose the winds of home —
But where shall we win to a land so bright, however far we roam?
We shall long for the fields of Maoriland, to pass as we used to pass
Knee-deep in the seeding tussock, and the long lush English-grass.
And we may travel a weary way ere we come to a sight as grand
As the lingering flush of the sun's last ray on the peaks of Maoriland.
George Charles Whitney.
Sunset
Behind the golden western hills
The sun goes down, a founder'd bark,
Only a mighty sadness fills
The silence of the dark.
O twilight sad with wistful eyes,
Restore in ruth again to me
The shadow of the peace that lies
Beyond the purple sea.
The sun of my great joy goes down,
Against the paling heights afar,
Gleams out like some glad angel's crown,
A yellow evening star;
The glory from the western hills
Falls fading, spark on spark,
Only a mighty sadness fills
The spaces of the dark.
James Lister Cuthbertson. [reprise]
Ode to Apollo
"Tandem venias precamur
Nube candentes humeros amictus
Augur Apollo."