New Zealand Verse/A Leaf from a Fly-book

XLV.

A Leaf from a Fly-book.

The king’s road is a troublous summons calling day and day;
But my feet take the cocksfoot track—the easy, vagrant way:
Beside the restless acres and the gold of noisy gorse,
The ripple lures its lover down the dazzle of its course.

Its speech is of the willow-reaches rich with lurking joy;
The revel of the rapids where gay life is death’s decoy:
My heart is with the laughing lips; I follow up and down;
But follow not the king’s white road toward the haste of town.

Afoot, the wash of waders, and aloft, the haze-veiled blue,—
The heart it needeth nothing so the cast fall clean and true.
O carol of the running reel, O flash of mottled back!
And who will take the king’s white road, and who the cocksfoot track?

The hour-glass fills with weather like a wine of slow content:
I throw the world behind me as a cartridge that is spent.
Then home by summer starlight bear my grass-cool, mottled load;
I quit the pleasant cocksfoot track: I take the king’s white road.

Seaforth Mackenzie.