The Spirit of the West.

Horowhenua Chronicle, 7 January 1914, Page 2

The Spirit of the West.

(Written lor The Chronicle.) (By Jack Vincent.) Slit; roams by blue Pacific's side, A vision wond'rous fair, A mountain lily's virgin, pride Twined in her golden hair. She is oi' fair Zealandia's brood The youngest and the best; Child of the wild hush solitude, Our Lady of the West. The joybells, pealing far and wide, Ring in her Jubilee; Her anthem from the mountain's side Floats proudly to the sea. Young generations round her throng, Brave, vigorous and true, With lofty aims and purpose strong, To conquer and subdue. Tliey lay (heir offering at her feet, A garland, and a wreath Of wild bush flowers, fresh and sweet, With fragrant native heath. With loving pride she scans the breed, Whose sires so well she knew, Brave pioneers who look (he lead, And stormed the forests through. Where are they now 'f That gallant band Of lion-hearted men, Who conquered all the Western Land, Bush, river, mount and glen!*' Brave hearts who fought, the wilderness, The men who blazed the tracks. Their only arms in strife and stress The compass and the axe!

All ' now her eyes their lustre lack, Her voice is full of tears, Foi memory is rolling back - r ". Xlie shroud of buried ysars. Enfolded in their cold embrace Her old-time heroes sleep, A 'remnant only of the race Her Jubilee may keep. Some stalked Dame Fortune round the world, Free lances in her train, j Where'er the banner was unfurled • For plunder and for gain. Bold trackers of the hidden mine, They scorned a life of ease, They quaffed life's cup of joyous wine, And drained it to the lees. An invocation, soft and clear, She marmui's to the breeze, . To waft to those, to memory dear, That sleep beyond the seas. ''Come back!" 'Tis your kindred calling Far over the restless main, Oil! shake off Death's sleep enthralling, Come back to the Coast again. 3 Come back to the West, ye rovers, t That sleep on the sunbaked* k plains, Where Coolgardie's sands half covers 1 The last of your poor remains. 5 ■ Come home from the frozen Yukon, ! Return from the arid Rand ; To the old West Coast and look on 1 The hills of your native land: - Where the fiery rata's glowing L And wild biish flowers entwine, " Where the cool sea breeze is blow- ; ing t Through jlie groves of silver pine. 1 Ah ! the winds bear back no token > From beyond Death's shoreless tide, 1 For your wander-lust is broken —Ye have crossed the' Great Divide. Of the multitude that sought me Through great hardship, toil and strife, Who out, out of a chaos'brought me 1 And fashioned me into life. t y ■ How few there are left to meet 4 me, > But the feeble old and grey; I How wistful the smiles that greet 1 ma From my brave old band to-day £ L salute you my time-worn sires, Brave relics of days of yore, I When ye sang by your bright > camp lires That are quenched for ever : more. i ' I greet you, my aged fathers, Ere the pregnant hour arrives, ' W hen the hand of the Reaper gathers ' All your ripe and fruitful lives. ' ii is garnering hand will find you In the fields you fought and won, ' The progress you leave behind 1 ~ y° u >. The work that your hands begun. Fill high to the brim, my sires, And now drink this toast with me; Ye have reached your hearts' desires Rest, Peace and Fraternity. Oh ! the old camp lifci Was pleasant^ When y6ur beards were black or red, Here's—"Joy to my grey beards present, God's peace to our distant dead." —JACK VINCENT. i 7\ i mi o