# Shingle-Short and Other Verses/The Paddock - Song of the Seeds

The Paddock.
The Song of the Seeds.
Down, down into the Dark! Farewell, warm Sun! Farewell, New world and wide! Bright Brothers, whom beside We were in hopes to dwell, Farewell, Farewell! Must we, indeed, and in such haste, resume Blindness and narrow room? Must all these ready riches thankless lie? Behold, we are but just now born, and must We down into the dust? Yea, must we die? Alas, the helpless woe! Will we or no, Die, die we must, and go Down, deep into the Dark! Our Doom is so.
Down to the Dark! Deep down! —Listen! The live Roots call. “Down, to wise Earth Come! and reap richer birth ​From this poor burial, As did we all. No prison here, no dungeon shall you see, But a kind dormitory. Let good Nurse Death strip off your dingy vest, And down, to wider wakening by-and-by, O little Brothers, lie— Lie down to rest! Yea, let the Sower sow, And grieve not, though Stay’d here awhile below. Down, down into the Dark! Your Need is so!”
Down to the Dark!—the Flowers, Listen! the tissues green, What counsel they? “Go down! that from the clay Up ye may rise! in clean, Sweet-colour’d sheen. Poor yet, and unprepared, were it not well Humbly awhile to dwell?— That soon, with brave fresh dazzle and delight Strongly upbursting out of dust and taint, Impearl ye may and paint Day’s radiance bright! What! Should not Glory glow? And Splendour show? Haste ye, make haste to go Down, down into the Dark!— Your Hope is so!”
Ah, and in us, what cry?.... Listen! not strong—profound! ​“I am alive!— But, merely—Can I thrive, Being so barr’d and bound, And straiten’d round? Deep would I pierce! High would I spring and soar! I am—I must be more!” To Life demanding, what should life reply? “Yea, sound the deep! yea, soar! But then must first My swaddling-bands be burst.” So! then—let’s die! Quick! Let’s begin to grow. Quick, quick! Let’s go Glad and with joy below. Down! Down into the Dark! Our Right is so!
(Hine.)—
The sun grows hot. A burden alike is his heat, and the want of his heat is a burden, To backs bow’d down with the years; And where, O Hine! are they, Sprung of the loins of thy sons, Or fed from thy daughters’ breasts, To step to thy side, and take The toil from this tremulous hand? Ay, where? And theraupo roof, with its kindly coolness, ​To shelter my head— The dark, still air of the silent forest, To lay, like a leaf, on these quivering eyeballs— Where? As of old, Winds blow warm from the North, Winds blow cold from the South, Rain-clouds drive from the mountain, and spray from the sea, The sun from the sea rises bright, as of old:— They are warm’d, they are cool’d, they are lit and refresh’d as of old Nevermore! Once, when a chief was dead, another chief took his place— When the old net was rotten, behold, another was used— But what successor to me? Lo, white with the spray, warp’d with the sun, A canoe water-logg’d, a basket worn-out, A plank cast-off from the house of my kinsfolk— I, I only, am left!
OTi, In soil of the Maori, ’mid turf of thePakeha, Thou, in like manner, ancient exceedingly, Standest alone. Thy dry leaves rattle. Thou, too, standest alone. Where are thy fathers? Where are thy brethren? Thick, round about, stand the trees of thin foliage, From over the sea-waves:— But where are thy seedlings? Our saplings, where flourish they? ​Where? Lo, where the quick wind smites thine old tresses, Under them, over them, glancing between them, Sharp to the eye, sharp to the heart, Glitters the iron roof of the Stranger. Oh, strong the Stranger! a tall Karaka-tree: Glossy with oil the bright leaves of his branches: —We, the shed berries beneath! He, the new Moon—we were the old Moon. As the plunge of theTakapu, straight is his speeding:— Frost-fish, we make for the shore!
Once, Here lay the forest, yonder the flax-flat. High on yon hill stood thepa, palisaded, Spiked were its fences, and strong. And the house of the youthful, the house of the dancers, Was ample and high: The carv’d hall of meeting, the house of the entertain’d, Spacious and warm. Here, on this side, were the store-pits forkumara, Roomy, well-fill’d, and the stages, thick-cover’d With fish, to be dried in the sun. Ah, ah! In that day, The sun was brighter, the flax-leaves longer, Thepatiki thicker, its flesh more sweet:— ​They were the days of my youth! Long, long days, yet each hour but a little one, Gliding and gone without sweep of the paddle. House of Hine! O home of my tribe! To the fingers and feet, to the eye and the nostril, Returning not—wherefore return ye (As the bright waves, when at breath of the shore-wind, The fog volleys seaward) Home, here, to my heart? ..Ha! the sheen in the sunlight. Ha! chant in the house of the weavers. Ha! gloss of the well-prepared flax. We weave, O my sisters, along and across, A white mat, a fine mat, a mat for a chieftain, A mat with gay borders, yea, fringed with a thick fringe of feathers, An heirloom mat for the tribe. ....Rise, Hine! Go, Hine, youngest of the weaving women! Ngairë the aged would drink—arise up quickly! Carrying thy calabash, hasten to the spring! The clear spring bubbling on the border of the forest. The sun reddens, the sun flashes. Bright in the eyes he looks...bright in the forest... Ah, ah, he flashes On eyes in the forest! Ah, ah, where yonder Burst from the foliage Our fishers, our hunters, and heavy their spoil. Foremost among them, ​Tall and erect as akahikatea, Princely, well-tattoo’d, a terror to foemen, He that is known to my heart—O Paoa!.... Alas! In the ear of theDaughter of Darkness Hangs now my jewel of greenstone, envied of all.
..Ah, savoury odour! Sweet smell of the ovens uncover’d! Feed me, O feast, among feasting companions! O savour, O relish of old! ....Dark now it grows; the hour of darkness, The hour of darkness and dread! Stars to the Heavens—bright fires to themarae! Flourish, ye flames! O blossom, ye torches! Hour of the dance and delight! Fresh as the young fern, fragrant as the scented fern, Tress’d like the tree-fern—maidens, come ye forth! Bright-breasted pigeons, sweet-tonguedKorimako-birds, Tall, supple saplings—warriors, advance! Voices in sympathy, limbs all in unison. Hearts of one beating, spirits of one tune— Sway ye, swing ye, chanting and answering, This way, that way, lissom as the sea-wave, As a wind-waved valley of the blossoming manuka! Ha! Ha! with the beating of feet! Ha! with the tongue of defiance! With play of the fingers and hips, With the whiteness of eyes and of teeth! Ah, the glorious grace! Ah, the noble agility! Like a bright torch, admiration is kindled— ​Toss, ye bright torches of fire! While the ancients, gathered together, Their bodies in warm repose, In their spirits are playing and swaying also together, Reciting, recounting, the one with the others, Which the canoe was, who the descendants, Hither of old fromHawaiki faring; The songs and the stories of old.
Ay, the young with the young, the old with the old— It was, long ago—it is gone! O my flock of white sea-birds, my children! Paoa, O husband!.... Where the cold wind wrinkles my skin, Where no voice comes, I lie.
Once a stately Totara in the forest Tower’d high; its free and sun-warm’d summit Lordly dwelt, alone in radiant air. With its foot the earth was knit and strengthen’d, With its shade was roof’d a home of greenness, Gardens ’mid its roomy boughs were cradled. And the Tui, and the flickering Fan-tail Warbled, nested there, and reared their young. —Axes rang!.... Lo! amid the towering tree-tops, Space; but on the mosses, a long weight! Now theKareao snaps, now the Kié-kié is brown’d and wind-eaten; ​Over the noble lumber, theBramble, the envious Tataramoa Springing up, flourishes green: But with pinion’d crown the Tree-fern See! ’mid growths upheav’d and broken, See a miserablehorokio Whose appealing roots drink air!
Root in the rocks, once, fingers in the sea-waves, Surest of swimmers among the eddying surges, Thick grew theRimurapa, fringing the shore, Thick grew the long-shore kelp: A mat for the feet of the ripples, as the breast of thePukeko duskily blue: A crown of bright locks to the water, a laugh to the eyes of the sun. And the waters stay’d it, the sun caress’d it; Once, with its long-washing tendrils, With power, it protected the sacred head of a chief. —Storms arose!.... By the sea that fed, by the billows that bosom’d, Tugg’d, torn-up, dragg’d over the biting reef, High on the thirsty sand, What ails thee, O Rimurapa? that tarnish’d and stiff, To the suppling deep thou return’st not? “It is dry, it is brittle; ah, ah, it is dingy, it stinks! Out on the wretched remainder! On my kumara-patch let it perish!” Shall one contemptuously say. ​And yet, what weed, O Tangaroa, lord of the sea! Rooted for ever, endureth the wearing wave? Which fern, O Tawhiri-matea, lord of the tempest! Suffering the seasons, upspringeth for ever more? O friend! The old laws, from for ever establish’d and rooted for ever, What reverence, what use, to revile?
Ay, who hath ever known one year, Sunny and windless all its days? The Summer gleams and glows, Bright berries burn.... Then, Winter howls! The South-wind bites like salt, the white frost bites, The glow is fled, the glory all is gone, And Lo! that is, which was decreed to be.
Or, what bay feels a tide for ever full? BrightToé-toé and green grass line it with sheen, The tickled pebbles laugh, The deep swell sways.... Then comes the ebb! From bubbling ooze the mud-crabs sidle out The beach is silent, the clear lustre lost, And, Lo! that is which was decreed to be.
Or, what young man is man for ever young? His eyeballs beam; his thought flieth like wind; Hope marries with his heart, Strength with his hand— ​Then comes Old Age! Tired, tired his heart, and his full strength a sleep. The glow is fled, the glory all is gone, —Lo! that which was to be is that which is!
Who, then, art thou, Hine, O presumptuous one, That through thy limbs the life-tide yet should laugh, And in thy cheek the finger of years not lie? Who, Hine, thou— Daughter ofTe Rawhiti, daughter of great Tipitai, Daughter of Kapu—of the dead, who died— That thou alone should’st elude the experience eluded of no man? —Who thou, thyself? Maui, perhaps? Art thou even as Maui, thou totterer? For thee will the sun stand still? More art thou, mightier, than Maui-tiki-tiki? Who, having broken the swift sun’s pinions, Who, out of Heaven fire having fetch’d us, And on his finger having lifted Earth from Ocean— Hine-nui-te-po having finally attempted, Daughter of the Dark, to cheat and overmaster, Master of cunning, he master’d was—he died!
Nay, be wise! The night is yoked with the day, after the sun, the thunder, The berry once ripe, doth it ever grow green? ​Shall a foam-flake root up the rocks? ..Lo, a bubble of foam on the crest of the incoming wave, And after the rising and poising—the passing away!
So it ever hath been: so it is. Enough! So be it: so best! For, tell me, lingering fern, Child of the forest—the forest fell’d, Would’st thou brave the open, alone, A jest to the withering winds? —Uprooted weed of the wave, Would’st thou stay a slave to the stones, Decay’d, an offence? What? Is it so sweet to be lonely? Enough! what is doom’d, let it die, what is dead, be it buried! Where the heads of my kinsfolk are fallen, Lay mine low! Where the fence of their pa is white ashes, Speed, flames on my roof! Where the bones of my kinsfolk lie bleaching and crumbling together Let mine that are broken, grow whiter thanKokota-shell. Yea, if of my tribe I was verily one, One with my tribe let me be— Count, count, count me among them, O Death! for it is enough.
Lo! the last of the seeds—they are sown! Take now your rest, ​Weak hands that tremble, O tottering knees that fail! But one moon past, and I should not have been so spent.
Enough? Yea, Hiné, enough! Shall a dry leaf consider the season? Winds cannot wither it, rains cannot make it green. While power ran yet in my veins, I was angry, I strove— Behold, I will struggle no more. For mine eye shrinks from the sun, A shout is far from mine ears, Hardly my staggering foot Presses aside the grass That is choking my wharé door (Would I dance with these feet of lead?); On the head once admired and perfumed Theweeds of Tura lie thick (Old heads tell truth—they turn pale, confessing that courage is lost); My breast no longer is broad for the striving with sorrow— And what of the heart within?
Ah, Of old, long ago, In a pa well-provided, the fortress call’d Hine, Strong stood the house of my heart! Heavy the storms it withstood! Bare, in those days, was the store of my mind, scant the experiences Gather’d and sorted, garner’d and laid up in store; ​But glowing and ever-prepared My oven of zest and delight. ....Tell me, now, house of my heart, Worn, weather-beaten, decay’d— The guests of Desire still can’st thou harbour? Sweet traffic of Love wilt thou house? Hear the word! “I am wind-swept, fire-ruin’d and rent; My babes were all father’d long since. Long since I re-echoed their tangi. Let be!” Nay, tell me, oven of joy, What heat hast thou yet, to prepare me the banquet of life? “I have cook’d. Lo, the stones are long cold.” Thou, store of my mind, Many years have ripe harvests in plenty been brought to thy hold; Is there room yet for riches to come? “To the brim am I fill’d. Bring no more!”
So answer they all; so it is. In the mind is the strength of the body. Of old, long ago, I had life— I have lived! And ataha fill’d, is it not full? A web woven, is there no rest?
Long was the labour! Now rest thee, rest! Yield thee, yield, to the cherishing sun. The sun is gentle, the silence gentle— Rest! Hands, lie open—the toil is over. ​Heart, be tranquil—the toil is done. In the midst of the morning, lo, it is evening. Rest! The Breeze, like a soft hand, soothing. Warmth, like a kind hand, caring. The sap asleep....asleep! Long was the labour, sweet is the resting. Yield, yield thee to rest!
Now, in the calm of the gathering dusk, At the outer gate, at the outermost gate, As a cloud in a windless sky, Standeth my spirit, alone. The stars are silent, The forest silent, The air silent— Hush! In the ruin’d wharés within, all is still, still.... For all are fallen asleep:— The dancer Delight, at the side of the warrior, Anger, Want, forgetful of woe, Triumph without her song, Fear with her eyes at peace. They have done their deeds, their deeds are all done, And I prithee, awake them not—they are noisy, awaked. Sleep!....Sleep!....Sleep on!
But my spirit sleeps not; as one Awaiting the summoning cry, The voice of a lover who tarries, She stands by the outermost gate And peers in the dark, abroad: On this side, the land well-known, ​On that, the limitless Sea! O Land, once friendly and loved!— Peak and gully and swamp, Boisterous heart of the rivers,weary knees of the rivers, Sea-beach, kumara-patch, Tracks long travers’d and trod: —O Land, forlorn and estranged! Bare of welcoming roofs, Emptied of faces and eyes, A foe unto tired feet, (Hark!) For you my face and my eyes, For you are my feet no more! Turn thither, O feet, with my face (Hark!) whence cometh the word, Awaited, well-understood, —To the great Sea!
O roadless Road through darkness and depth, by which none ever return! O Track untried, that leadeth, whither? Whether to darkness or light? Light in the land of some heavenly Hawaiki, past the horizon,— Or the long, long night of our fathers, Te Po, ever- everlasting Night? Is it true, what our fathers have told us? Or true, what the Pakeha says? Who can tell? Yet, can the night ofTe Reinga be darker to me Than the light of this world is become? ​Hark, the call! O my spirit, why stay? Behold, she but stays, As a traveller tried, as one fain to step light on a journey, To lay off superfluous wealth, the body’s jewels and mats— Lo! Strength of the eyes....it is gone. Strength of the hand....Lo—gone! Sight of the mind, strength of the heart, the last— Are they not loosen’d already?— On, my soul, on!
Ah, Hanete, look! Old I was, but the seeds were all sown. ORangi! O Papa! Receive them, and prosper the harvest.
...It darkens....the wind hath ceas’d. Let no moon shine....Is it mist? Ha, the leap from the rocks. ...Ha, the swirl of the seaweed disparting.... Still is the Sea! Still... .still!....
(She falls into a sleep from which she will not awake.)
(Enter Elizabeth and Janet, carrying food.)
Janet—Hine!
Elizabeth—Hush! Look! Do you not see? She is asleep. Do not let us awake her; she is a very old woman.
Janet—I wonder how old?....Does she not look older than ever in her sleep? Ah, you poor, feeble ​old Hine—worn-out, and with so little work!—Elizabeth! I shall not like being old.
Elizabeth—It is natural you should think so. But age is as natural as youth, Janet, at the right time—yes, all the time! for it, too, is but just a stage in everything. Come, stay, go: begin, be, die: your restless youth, springing up, Hine’s drowsy age, dwindling down, and my contented housewifery halfway—what are they all, but just the common way of life? wide as the world, and narrow as this Paddock. See the clover blooming here, the strawberries ripening there, the old cabbage-tree over yonder very near its last season—and the Paddock with its arms about them all!
Janet—How unusual you are this morning, Liz! You’re not sick, are you? And how does all that make amends, pray, for being a poor old Hine, only able to fall asleep, on such a lively, lively day?
Elizabeth—This way, to my thinking. It seems to say that a poor old Hine, asleep in the sun, is as really all right, has just as truly a part in things, as a sprightly young Janet cantering about in it (Yes! I saw)—though Janet may not think so, and though the parts are different. Oh, child, you need not be afraid! Properly look’d at, age is no more pitiable, and not one whit less enviable than youth.
Janet—Elizabeth! When the one is Growing-up, and the other Growing-down?
Elizabeth—Yes! because, don’t you see, Janet, that Growing-down is after all only another way of Growing-on? You will grow on to womanhood, I to old-womanhood, Hine—to what? nobody knows! only, grow on to something she must—how can she help it? everything that is alive grows on, and everything is ​so alive, at heart! Ay.... outside the Paddock, and outside the world: inside our bodies, and deep in our souls: through everything, and beyond everything—surely, all is Life, the Life Everlasting! eternal freshness, toil untired, boundless rest—and we a part of it, all the time and for ever. Ah, child, it is all right!—
(A pause.)
(Lightly.) And just you wait a bit, Janet. Who knows? years and years ahead, perhaps you will find it the pleasantest and most natural thing in the world to fall asleep in the sun, some bright November morning.
Janet—Oh, Liz, Liz! Can you imagine it?
Elizabeth—At present, not very easily, I confess!
Janet—And for once, I am more than willing to wait.—Oh, naughty!.... Look behind you, Liz!
Elizabeth—Why, who is this? Mother’s little Jeanie could not stay by herself one minute? Hush, dearie....see! Poor old Hine was so tired she has had to fall fast, fast asleep—kind Jeanie would not wake her? She promised to finish the story? May be she is dreaming the end to it now—Come along! We will set the basket down here, so, beside her, and go and see what Daddy is doing with all those sheep.
Janet—Come along, Jeanie, come along! A race to the Paddock-gate! Mother shall be judge—Now! One....two....three....Off!....Run, Jeanie! Run, Auntie! Run, run, run!
(Exeunt Elizabeth, Janet, and the child.)
* ↑ Raupo (rów-po): A kind of bulrush.
* ↑ Ti (tee): The Cabbage-tree.
* ↑ Pakeha (páh-kay-hah): A white man.
* ↑ Takapu (táh-kah-poo): The gannet.
* ↑ Frost-fish: The allusion is to the popular idea that the Frost-fish (which is rarely caught at sea, but sometimes is found lying upon the beach) comes ashore to die.
* ↑ Pa (pah): A fortified Maori village.
* ↑ Kumara (kóo-mah-rah): The sweet potato.
* ↑ Patiki (páh-tee-kee): The flounder.
* ↑ Kahikatea (kah-hee-kah-tay-ah): The white pine.
* ↑ Daughter of Darkness (Hine-nui-te-po): Death.
* ↑ Marae (máh-ri): The courtyard.
* ↑ Korimako (koh-ree-máh-koh): The bell bird.
* ↑ Hawaiki (Hah-wáh-ee-kee): The legendary home of the Maori race.
* ↑ Kareao (karry-ow): The supple-jack; a liana.
* ↑ Bramble: Better known to New Zealanders as “Bush Lawyer.”
* ↑ Horokio: A species of fern.
* ↑ Rimu-rapa: A seaweed.
* ↑ Pukeko (Poo-kek-ko): The New Zealand swamp-hen.
* ↑ Toé-toé (toy-toy): A tall plumed grass, very much like the Pampas.
* ↑ Te-Rawhiti, etc. (Tay-Ráh-fee-tee, Tée-pee-ti, Kàh-poo): Maori masculine names.
* ↑ Maut-tiki-tiki: v. p. 43.
* ↑ Kókota: A white bivalve.
* ↑ Weeds of Tura: Grey hairs.
* ↑ Taha: A calabash.
* ↑ Weary knees: i.e., Shallows.
* ↑ Te Reinga (Tay Rayng-ah): The Maori Hades. The old belief was that, on departing from the body, the spirit fled to the North Cape, whence, leaping from the cliff, it took its way through the waters of the sea to Te Reinga.
* ↑ Rangi, etc. (Ráng-ee, Páh-pah): Heaven and Earth.