The Waitaki
A silver thread, the river glides, Between its banks of green; And ever on, its path abides, With beauty’s grace, unseen.
The mountain peaks in grandeur rise, While shadowed valleys lie; And murmurs of the water sighs Beneath the azure sky.
In quiet nooks where willows weep And rushes softly stand, The secret of the waters deep Is placed in Nature’s hand.
A gleam, a flash—the fish ablaze, Scatters the banks with light; The heron, poised, in silent gaze, Waits for the coming night.
O life, immortal, ever new! The sun sinks to the west; Like echoes touched by evening dew, My spirit finds its rest.
- M H McGlashan