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    Indian and Other Tales
    Indian and Other Tales
    Indian and Other Tales
    Ebook37 pages20 minutes

    Indian and Other Tales

    By M. L. Hope

    ()

    Read preview
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateNov 26, 2013
    Indian and Other Tales

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      Book preview

      Indian and Other Tales - M. L. Hope

      The Project Gutenberg EBook of Indian and Other Tales, by M. L. Hope

      This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with

      almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or

      re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included

      with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net

      Title: Indian and Other Tales

      Author: M. L. Hope

      Release Date: July 31, 2011 [EBook #36925]

      Language: English

      *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INDIAN AND OTHER TALES ***

      Produced by Al Haines

      INDIAN AND

      OTHER TALES

      By M. L. HOPE

      Toronto

      William Briggs

      1911

      Copyright, Canada, 1911,

      By M. L. Hope.

      INDIAN AND OTHER TALES

          O beautiful wind of the West,

      In your wand'rings o'er land and sea,

          What have you seen in your quest?

      Come, tell your story to me.

          In the isles of the southern seas,

      Where the crystal-clear ocean a melody sang

          To the beautiful kauri trees,

      I wandered the summer day through,

          In the forest's dappled shade,

      Where the graceful fern-tree bowed its head

          To woo the Maori maid.

      A nymph of the woods was she

          In her kiwi mantle brown;

      And the fern-tree wooed her with tender grace

          From dawn till the sun went down;

      But a Maori chieftain came

          In the glory of life's young morn,

      And the maiden forsook her mystic love,

          Leaving it sad and forlorn.

      But the tui-bird saw its grief,

          And in loving sympathy

      Built her beautiful, woven nest

          In the heart of the lonely tree.

          And when its liquid notes echoed the woodland through,

      The fern-tree lifted its drooping head

          And was fresh as the morning dew;

      So I left them

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