Verses from Maoriland/The Splitter's Song
THE SPLITTER’S SONG
The long day’s nearly over, and the quiet night’s at hand,
It’s time for giving over work, I know;
Peace is creeping down the valley, stillness settles on the land,
The shadows they are lengthening here below.
Far away, the sun is shining on the Southern headland still,
On rugged rocks, and sheets of shining foam,—
Here the wekas ’gin to answer one another from the hill,
And the wood-splitters are making tracks for home.—
It’s time for giving over work, I know;
Peace is creeping down the valley, stillness settles on the land,
The shadows they are lengthening here below.
Far away, the sun is shining on the Southern headland still,
On rugged rocks, and sheets of shining foam,—
Here the wekas ’gin to answer one another from the hill,
And the wood-splitters are making tracks for home.—
For day is done, and night’s begun,
And dreamless sleep is coming!
And dreamless sleep is coming!
As the last man stumbles wharéwards, the moreporks harshly hoot,
And sleepy bell-birds flutter in the Bush;
From out the tangled supplejack, convolvulus, and tutu,[1]
He hears the creek’s unceasing roar and rush.
Now stars begin to twinkle in the clear sky, one by one,
All’s silent save for plaintive cry of sheep
And the bleat of young lambs answering,—at setting of the sun,
It seems that all our world must fall asleep.
And sleepy bell-birds flutter in the Bush;
From out the tangled supplejack, convolvulus, and tutu,[1]
He hears the creek’s unceasing roar and rush.
Now stars begin to twinkle in the clear sky, one by one,
All’s silent save for plaintive cry of sheep
And the bleat of young lambs answering,—at setting of the sun,
It seems that all our world must fall asleep.
When day is done, and night’s begun,
A dreamless sleep is coming!
A dreamless sleep is coming!
There streams a flood of firelight from the wharé’s open doors,
The cook’s had supper ready long ago:
Fling the logs upon the hearth till the iron chimney roars,
Black pine, manuka sticks, and matipo!
Supper over, smoke begins;—with a yarn or song maybe,
And the splitter tumbles early into bunk;
Before the break of dawning, far across the hills is he,
So soon in depths of slumber he is sunk,—
The cook’s had supper ready long ago:
Fling the logs upon the hearth till the iron chimney roars,
Black pine, manuka sticks, and matipo!
Supper over, smoke begins;—with a yarn or song maybe,
And the splitter tumbles early into bunk;
Before the break of dawning, far across the hills is he,
So soon in depths of slumber he is sunk,—
When work is done, and night’s begun,
His dreamless sleep is coming!
His dreamless sleep is coming!
O my brothers, O my sisters, by the bitter bond of “graft,”
By sweat of brow, by salt of scalding tears,—
Who needs must travel for’ard, while the loafers journey aft,
Who needs must toil and struggle all your years;
This know I: night comes down on the longest, hardest day,
And deep and sweet is sleep when life is past;
There is rest for every worker, and the landlord asks no pay
For the bed that welcomes weary bones at last.
By sweat of brow, by salt of scalding tears,—
Who needs must travel for’ard, while the loafers journey aft,
Who needs must toil and struggle all your years;
This know I: night comes down on the longest, hardest day,
And deep and sweet is sleep when life is past;
There is rest for every worker, and the landlord asks no pay
For the bed that welcomes weary bones at last.
When day is done, and night’s begun,
A dreamless sleep is coming!
A dreamless sleep is coming!
- ↑ Pronounced “toot.”