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 “Here’s a host of us, down in the creek, Riding ripples at hide-and-seek, Pencilling living I’s and O’s On a pebble the water overflows, Or weaving the links of a golden net Round jewels of jasper, opal and jet.” “We are tressing the Ti with ribbons of light.”— “Painting Capeweed yellow, and Clover white.”— “Brightening a cloud.”—“Brightening mud.”— “Kissing a blossom out of a bud.”— “Summoning seeds.”—“Sweetening blood.”— “I am warming this root.”—“And the breezes, I.”— “I am telling a joke to the jubilant sky.”— “And I am at work in this Poplar-tree, Helping a stunted shoot go free.”— “Busy ye all are?” “Busy are we!”

“Hey. Brothers!” “Ho, Brother!” “What are you doing, and where are you, where?” “I’m streaking the yard where the chips lie spread, Matai, Rata, with yellow and red.”— “I am dancing in at the kitchen-door. Come along, Brother, we’ll gild the floor, Wash the brown of the walls with gold, Burnish the window, blazon the air, And ring with a glory the little one’s hair.”— “I am soothing, smoothing, the kitten’s fur.— See her stretching, and hear her purr!”— “Janet, washing her bread-pan, sings. And the world is the better by two bright things.”— “I am ripening her cheek.”—“I laugh in her eye,