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 Gold glances of Sunlight, That, peeping, withdrawing, Then suddenly bursting Through fringes of foliage, Kiss’d me, of yore, to a radiant rapture— Sad, I salute you! ....O Matai, O Maire, Totara, Rimu! Moss-hung, fern-footed, Leaning towards me your burdens of Kié-kié,— Living and lofty, once more do I see you? Near—O draw near! Ah Tree-ferns! pavilion me. Ground-ferns, and tender Green mist of the Mosses,— Touch me, O drink of me! ....Hark! Is it true? The twitter of locusts, More pleasant than prattle of pebble with rapid, Again?.... O flute of the Tui! More pure, smooth, cool, Than coolest and clearest upbubbling of water.. O rustle of Rain! ....And the music, rising and falling, The singing of leaves and boughs, Sweet word of the Wind—Oh, again do I hear you, again? Once again comes the glitter of light on the glossy Karaka? Ah, all the long day through, Still came the light, but the glitter was gone.