THE BROWN MAN’S BURDEN

Gisborne Times, Volume XXVII, Issue 2610, 18 September 1909, Page 4 (Supplement)

THE BROWN MAN’S BURDEN

When the Maori roamed the islands, In the far off waning age. You can see him now in your fancy, Painted bright by a stooping sage. You can picture him calling his loved ones, His heart’s whole in days gone by; You may hear the gentle love song. And the answering, ringing cry. Hosanna! the lark is singing To welcome a glorious day; The sun is slowly rising And melting the mists away. And. deep in his heart the hunter Will echo a glad refrain, And he’ll sleep when the day is ending, And rise with the kirk again. Some instinct had surely beset him, When fighting this jand to retain, That the free joyous life of the rover Would end soon, and nothing remain. ’Tis vain for the pale face to judge him— Such a gulf ’tween the bond and the free — For the Maori is mostly a dreamer, Finding beauties on land and on sea. He lived ’midst the songster and poet, Who learnt by the rippling wave, With beauty of earth to enchant them, As full as the heart could crave. And we, of the land of commerce, Are crushing the poet’s song; We’ve no wish to hear nis heart’s cry We jolt liim, and push him along. 'Tis often said: “We white folk Are made of a poorer clay I” Just think of things divine, friend; You answer: “What of they? But speak, of higher glories That lift the souls of men; You’ll'see the dark eyes flashing, A love light few can ken. And when you’ve grasped the meaning, Be it ever so feeble a grip, You’ll see all the white mail’s failings, Anti take from his hand the whip. Oil! pity the child of Nature! He comes from a different clime; We came from the cast off cities, From the chdking dust and slime. Our faults are the Maori’s burden (•Tie a truth we’d fain deny); He; draws himself up and disdains us. You can hear liis pitying sigh. Thrice welcome the hands of Justice That’ll make our laws the came; The brown man, shoulder to shoulder, Helping us on to fame. When he sees us—the pale-faced weaklings— All trvirig dm* best to be true, He’ll take heart and breathe more frejely, A better sky looming in view.

And then we will find, to our pleasure, He has wealth or the head and the heart; No need to be cramming and jamming, He’ll just take his key from the start.

He’ll never again fall or blunder, Or grieve at the white man’s sway; We’ll link hands and hearts in the future, n And wipe' all his tears away.

For the virtues in c,ach race will linger. Bv effort of ours sublime f ' We’ll share all our brother’s burden, . And make law a life divine. • Contributed by E. J. Oox, Gisborne.