INDIAN AND
OTHER TALES

By M. L. HOPE

Toronto
William Briggs
1911

Copyright, Canada, 1911,
By M. L. Hope.

INDIAN AND OTHER TALES

    O beautiful wind of the West,
In your wand'rings o'er land and sea,
    What have you seen in your quest?
Come, tell your story to me.

    In the isles of the southern seas,
Where the crystal-clear ocean a melody sang
    To the beautiful kauri trees,
I wandered the summer day through,
    In the forest's dappled shade,
Where the graceful fern-tree bowed its head
    To woo the Maori maid.
A nymph of the woods was she
    In her kiwi mantle brown;
And the fern-tree wooed her with tender grace
    From dawn till the sun went down;
But a Maori chieftain came
    In the glory of life's young morn,
And the maiden forsook her mystic love,
    Leaving it sad and forlorn.
But the tui-bird saw its grief,
    And in loving sympathy
Built her beautiful, woven nest
    In the heart of the lonely tree.

    And when its liquid notes echoed the woodland through,
The fern-tree lifted its drooping head
    And was fresh as the morning dew;
So I left them in their joy—the youth and his fairy bride,
    The tree with its nest of callow birds—
And I crossed the ocean tide.

In the early morn I came to a land where the orchards were white
With their wealth of apple blossoms, and bathed in the spring sunlight;
There I found a winding road with banks where the wild-flowers grew,
And through a vista of blossoming trees the sea came into view,
As it sparkled in the sun and kissed the golden shore,
Then laughed aloud in its mirth and ran back to the sea once more.

And again I wandered on, until in the twilight dim
I came where the scent of the wattle seemed the incense to Nature's hymn,
    For a brooding peace lay o'er land and sea
    As I sank to rest in a blue gum-tree,
And when I awoke in the dawn, the dew lay on vineyards green,

Where they nestled in valleys of red-hued loam;
And a river whose fount was a cascade clear,
Which burst from the brow of a mountain near,
Wended its way through the verdant land,
Till it reached at last the ocean strand,
Where it lost itself in the waters deep,
And only the mermaids saw it leap
With joy, as it reached the Garden of Sleep.

And still I wandered on until I came to tropical seas,
Where the odors of spices were wafted afar by every passing breeze;
And in the pearly light of the coming day
I saw the feathery bamboo groves, where the elephant loves to stray;
I heard his mighty trump, as he waked from his dream,
And the sound of women's voices as they wended their way to the stream;
A laughing, chattering throng, they passed me on their way
To bathe in the limpid waters, ere the sun held his sovereign sway.
I followed a Purple Emperor to the cinnamon gardens near,
Then chased a laughing rickshaw boy, and whispered in his ear;
What the secret was I may not tell,
But the rickshaw boy seemed to know it well.

Then I left behind me this island fair,
With its wondrous charm and fragrant