Blanche Edith Baughan

“ Naked, denuded,
Forestless, fernless,
Mute, now, and songless,
Sharp on sheer sky gape the lips of the gully;
Burden’d with black is the green of its pasture:
On whose long slopes
The sheep in their browsing
Must leap o’er a million,
Strewn, helter-skelter, headlong and helpless
Burnt bones of the Bush;
And, high on the hill-tops,
Once muffled with misty ever-green forest,
Gaunt tree-skeletons,
Tall blacken’d splinters,
Limbless, and leafless, and lifeless for ever,
In piteous distinctness
Starkly appear. ”

“ It seems to say that a poor old Hine, asleep in the sun, is as really all right, has just as truly a part in things, as a sprightly young Janet cantering about in it (Yes! I saw) —though Janet may not think so, and though the parts are different. Oh, child, you need not be afraid! Properly look’d at, age is no more pitiable, and not one whit less enviable than youth. ”

“ Finds the canoe, and there, under the bottom-boards,
Ha! in he crawls, and lies close.
Huge is the night, and the loneliness gruesome and terrible,
Sharp howls the wind, the old Sea moans there over his shoulder—
As a widow, a mother, they wail, at a death, at a [3] tangi;
And the Darkness was dreadful all round, a deep darkness of Death!
“Laugh, O my heart!” murmurs Maui,
And waits for the Dawn.
And at Dawn come his Brothers, intent on their old daily duty—
In their old fishing-ground to catch fish. ”

“ By the white of the first of the in-and-out lightning, I pick’d up the track;
Then, a long fusillade of far thunder roll’d round the dense Black.
Rain....Ah, the freshness!....the hightning to guide us, and Rangi’s good stride—
Seven miles, and the drift? ’Twould be nothing, a picnic, a holiday ride:
And Rangi and I had been chosen, been chosen! I laugh’d with delight
(Thunder ahead!) as we gallop’d on, into the night.
Enemy? Probably....There was the chance for our courage and skill. ”

“ She asks no more, because she doesn’t need to,
Because she’s Liz, dear, tender, loving Liz,
Born with a magnifying heart; and seeing
More than is there, too, till she’s there to see it;
But, for what’s obvious—a blind bat would her!
Liz.? Why she never sees the work, at all—
She sees us, past it,....twice our natural size;
And that’s enough! To stir our porridge stirs
Her blessed heart; our mutton feeds her soul—
She lives! because she loves. And, since she lives,
Everything’s live to her ”

“ Loving, beloved,
He replied:
“I am but I—the playmate
Of those with whom I play,
And of the Sun, and of the Sea,
And of the shining Day.
But the Day and the Sun, and the singing, shining Sea
Ever say:
‘Be happy! Be happy!
Immortally ye may,
For ever innocent,
Untouch’d, untroubled,
Satisfied, unsated
For ever, laugh and play!
Life cannot break you,
Sin cannot unmake you,
Nor Love forsake you—
Happy every way! ”

“ How long had we been—should we be, at this rate?
....If only that battering thunder would let one think straight!
Ah,....what a glitter! Right on it, right overhead, Boom! what a blast!
Earth-shaking, ear-splitting, soul-stunning—Save us! how long would it last?
..Right, then my Rangi!....Confound it! Oh, stop it!....Thank Goodness, at length
Peace!....And we call a man strong in the face of that Strength?
..Tingling, dumb, burying Blackness....confusing!....We stuck to our trail,
But I wonder’d at times whether Rangi was travelling head foremost or tail. ”

“ Prison, for my spirit—Ah, forgive me, Liz!
—Oh, I know all he says. I know the place
Is lovely; heavenly, on a day like this,
Yes, yes! but then, the thing you’re always seeing,
Well,....you don’t see it always! “Safe, and restful?”
Oh, but I don’t want rest! I get such lots.
I’m young—I’m not the least bit tired, except
As children are, at dawn,—tired of bed!
Rest isn’t always good for everything. ”

“ And the work that, day by day,
Now, I lightly waken to,
Always fresh and full of zest—
Helping, forwarding along
On its right and proper way,
Everything I love the best—
Why, it’s better far than play!
—First the creatures, and the plants,
Pretty souls! to be supplied
With the little natural wants
It’s so natural to provide;
Then—O God! the dearer farm,
The far richer garden-ground,
Tasking with delicious toil:—
Priceless bodies to keep sound,
Hearts to fence from hurt or harm,
Opening minds from blight or soil. ”

“ Manuka dark-ey’d, Convolvulus, Clematis star-ey’d—
The glittering of you that morning! fresh, dripping with dews of the Ocean,
New rays to the young, early sun!
The host of your [14] taua, address’d as to fight! of your lances and [15] meres of green-stone,
Bristling all suddenly upward, lustrously tossing in glory,
A green sea, high in the air!
Pull on! Pull away!
I see shining and shining below here.
Is there a Sun in the Sea? a young Sky in the water? ”

“ Hine.—O friend, it is well! But in these hands there is still strength, not alone to receive the cup, but also to draw up the bucket.
Janet—To be sure there is; plenty of strength. Well, well, do just as you will, Hine! I must be going.
(Exit Janet.)
Hine.— Strength? Ah, Hine! but less than there was. Bitterly listening, it was truth that I heard. ”

“ Fear, that had master’d me,—why, I was Master of Fear!
It was true! Running from them, the Fear that had ridden me, spurr’d me, nor spared,
Running right for them,—where was it? As little I knew as I cared!
From all care of myself, from all fear of the Power that still menaced and quiver’d,
From the False Fear of God, by the True I’d been snatch’d and delivered!
Ay, that’s what it came to.—The moment I turn’d to be true to my trust.
Terror left me. The moment I said in my soul, “It’s my duty: I must,”
[2] I could! ”

“ I believe she grows a year older every week.—No, Elizabeth, but you should see her this morning—such a hunchy, bunchy lump of tatters, and tattoo! And I am sure I have fewer hairs upon my head than she wrinkles on her face—that dried-up, puckery brown desert, with the two tired camp-fires at one end—her poor old peering eyes.—Are you really off at last, Liz.? ”

“ 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 [3] Karaka?
Ah, all the long day through,
Still came the light, but the glitter was gone.
⁠O feet of the Fire! why sped ye so swiftly?
O Beauty! O Blooming! Why fail’d ye so soon?
All the day long,
Now, cruel-ey’d, o’er the wide wound about me,
The raw devastation, the uncover’d Death,
Stands, scrutinising, the terrible Sunlight. ”

“ To the big, main, exciting thoroughfares.
The world sits in the Paddock, and all’s well!
—Eggs are Americas! and milking means
Commerce! Art sets the patches in the shirts;
Wash-day’s a glorious, weekly Waterloo;
The good all-genuine squeak of An.’s new boots
Takes her a trip to Town (it doesn’t me!) ,
And Heaven’s inside four walls!—But Oh, Liz, Liz!
Janet’s outside! poor Janet stands by, blind
At this transfiguration! It’s no use.
I do try, and I love them dearly, too,
But I’m not Liz; they’re not Me, only Mine ”

“ But soon, these Sunbeams, they miss’d the Sun.
Out! and back to the garden they run;
And out of the garden, and on to the track,
Follow the water, and run along back—
Every step a new pleasure,
At every turn a new treasure,
Till, like the tide, with laughter and glee,
Back they flock to the shore and the Sea. ”

“ For, tell me, lingering fern,
Child of the forest—the forest fell’d,
Would’st thou brave the open, alone,
A jest to the withering winds?
—Uprooted weed of the wave,
Would’st thou stay a slave to the stones,
Decay’d, an offence?
What? Is it so sweet to be lonely?
Enough! what is doom’d, let it die, what is dead, be it buried!
Where the heads of my kinsfolk are fallen,
Lay mine low!
Where the fence of their pa is white ashes,
Speed, flames on my roof!
Where the bones of my kinsfolk lie bleaching and crumbling together
Let mine that are broken, grow whiter than [22] Kokota-shell. ”

“ Year after year,—an’ all the time, That laid up in the Hill?
An’ the Stars go on, an’ the Sea goes on, an’ the lambs can be born an’ be.
You’d ha’ thought ’twould ha’ changed the world?—It has: but only for him, an’ me.
Ay! him in the Hill, an’ me outside,—we ain’t very far apart;
For the shade o’ you shadows my eyes, old Hill, and the weight o’ you wears my heart. ”

“ In the paddock the logs lie prone.
The prone logs never arise,
The erect ones never grow green,
Leaves never rustle, the birds went away with the Bush,—
There is no change, nothing stirs!
And to-night there is no change;
All is mute, monotonous, stark;
In the whole wide sweep round the low little hut of the settler
No life to be seen; nothing stirs. ”

“ Wholesome, and natural (Liz, no! not for me!) :
She reckons, work is, as you do it, worth
Or not worth doing; and, to help folk live,
She says, is the one way to live yourself.
—Is it? I’d like to make quite sure of that
By trying more ways first. And....what is living?
Eating up sheep, and wearing out your socks?
For that’s the only kind of thing I help!—
Wonderfully dull! If that’s all, well, I think
Life’s not worth helping. But it isn’t all,
Of course, it’s just the skin; life’s deeper down. ”

“ The hills and the gully remain;
One day is just like another;
In the paddock the logs lie still;
But the Train is not still; every evening it sparkles out, streams by and goes.
“What is the Train, that it travels? ”

“ Now you, Jill, my orphan.—Gently, creature, gently! You a lamb, indeed!....Ah, would you? and spill half the bucket again, I suppose, as you did yesterday! You grow too strong, Jill, and too greedy! You will soon have to grow up, I can see, and eat only grass.
Well, Mother Heavy-top, what news of you this morning? Come off a minute, and let me see. (She scatters grain.) What! Five, already—and a couple more shells chipp’d? Well done, old lady! Now, only a little more patience, and won’t you be proud, by-and-by? ”

“ She doesn’t understand! “Just wait awhile,
Janet, my dear,” she’ll say, ever so kindly,
“Bide here a bit, and help me with my home,
Until” (here wakes the dimple in her cheek)
“Your own comes calling; then you’ll understand.
Just wait!” (I like that “just,” Liz! Just as if
Waiting were not the hardest work in the world!) —
Oh, well—she means, of course, till I get married.
Which I don’t want....that is, I mean, not yet,
Not till I’ve seen things....Not Jim Carson, ever!
Paddock for life, seen through a different grating? ”

“ The air tingled with life,
But never a hurt or a tumble came,
And never a sound of strife.
Nothing was there to harm them;
Their world was gentle as they;
The Sun, the Wind, and the shining Sea,
Kind and loving, and full of glee,
Were only there to play. ”

“ Away....away....and away!
(Re-enter Janet with Hine.)
Janet.—Here, Hine, here is the place and these are the seeds, to be planted here, do you see? and here....and again along this strip by the creek. But take your time; do not tire yourself out. The day is young yet, but, oh! it is hot already. ”

“ In the eternal years ahead!
Can we come more closely wed?
Thus each glorious day goes by
In unhurried industry;
And each night, the dear day done,
Brings no setting to our sun.
Sweet, sweet life, that knows no change! ”

“ Now, you little creek,
Will you please be my basin? (washing hands)
....this green grass
My towel?....and this log my chair?....That’s good!
Stooping is real hard work.—Don’t hurry, Hine!
Those blue-gums seem springing to catch the sky:
The macrocarpa’s got a velvet heart,
And in these crispy matipo-leaves, light curls.
Oh, what a day! What sun! What blue and brightness!
What clean, clear air!....Doesn’t it seem to shine
Right through you! doesn’t it make you light and bright—
Fit for a frolic, wild to rush and leap
Over things! Oh, I am all on tiptoe, to.... ”

“ More by a mine you are to me
Than all the forests grown elsewhere.
The very clouds that wander by,
The sun that sees, the roofing sky,
Grow, by their neighbourhood, so dear,
That....Ah! I cannot see them clear. ”

“ Aunt’s house; and Town, of course, is not the world....
It’s the beginning, though! it’s Somewhere Else!
It’s stir and change, it’s people everyday,
It’s openings and chances—doors ajar,
And roads all round, leading all sorts of ways.
O Paddock! it’s the start; it’s the first step
Beyond your fence. It is, it is, it shall be!
I’m going to race that feather, little Creek!
Let’s see, now: I must keep it in all day,
And speak to-night....If there could be a letter
By to-day’s mail, to say how bad she seems....? ”

“ Hine (pointing to the basket of strawberries on the ground) .—You carry ripe berries, O Hanete. If there is to be gathering, must not planting come first?
Janet.—Of course it must. But for this harvest there is no such hurry; an hour or so will make no great difference; and, Hine, you are growing old, you know, and——
Hine.—The young think that there are none but the young.
Janet.—No, no! Do not say that! Do not take it like that—indeed I meant nothing unkind. (Aside: I have hurt her, the poor old creature!) (To Hine) But be wise ”

“ Whither the never-still Summoning summoneth me
Forth, forth on my endless errand I flee.
And where is the travel shall stain, or baffle, or tire
Me, at full flood of my destiny, my desire?
Will’d and willing, eager I speed
As is my fortune, so my need.
Monarch, yet minion, never my own:
Mate of the world, for ever alone:
Free, yet following: blowing, blown:
Call’d from before, sped from behind,
Wander! O would-be wanderer, O must-be wanderer Wind!
Ay! the route is ready, the speeding steady.
A friend, a foe, will I scatter and stow,
Further and foster, threaten and throw. ”