像一个黑人,倾心于星期四王低声低nder To the lights of Roslyn, terraced far asunder: Hovered low the sister cloud in wild, warm wonder. "O my love, Dunedin town, the only, the abiding! Who can look undazzled up where the Norn is riding, -- Watch the sword of destiny from the scabbard gliding! "Dark and rich and ringing true -- word and look for ever; Taking to her woman heart all forlorn endeavour; Heaven's sea about her feet, not the bounded river!" "Sister of the mountain mist, and never to be holden With the weary sophistries that dimmer eyes embolden, -- O the dark Dunedin town, shot with green and golden!" Then a silver pioneer netted in the rift, Leaning over Maori Hill, dreaming in the lift, Dropped her starry memories through the passioned drift: -- "Once -- I do remember them, the glory and the garden, Ere the elder stars had learnt God's mystery of pardon, Ere the youngest, I myself, had seen the flaming warden -- "Once even after even I stole ever shy and early To mirror me within a glade of Eden cool and pearly, Where shy and cold and holy ran a torrent sought but rarely. "And fondly could I swear that this my glade had risen newly, -- Burst the burning desert tomb wherein she lieth truly, To keep an Easter with the birds and me who loved her duly." Wailing, laughing, loving, hoar, spake the lordly ocean: "You are sheen and steadfastness: I am sheen and motion, Gulfing argosies for whim, navies for a notion. "Sleep you well, Dunedin Town, though loud the lulling lyre is; Lady of the stars terrene, where quick the human fire is, Lady of the Maori pines, the turrets, and the eyries!"