O, red berries, red berries!
Surprise in the wilderness,
Coral on dark green dress.
Nay, don’t tell me she’s blank,
My own land; she makes things —
Insects like sticks, insects with leaf-shaped wings,
Wise fishes, no-winged bird —
Surprises so absurd
They leave the singer dumb,
A stockfish for a word,
One word, wherewith to thank
These quaint, as from her crucible they come.
Bugs with big odours; white repellent grubs,
Manna for chieftains; here the fairy tubs
Of tree-fern logs, fallen and hollowed out,
Bright-fringed with fern; here the full crimson shout
Of rata, set ablaze; but more than this,
Supreme, the last show of her laughing kiss,
Rowan-round, but their own dark,
A forest’s exclamation mark,
Berries, red berries! —
Bright impudent bobbins, half the size of cherries,
But twice as tasty for her wild-wood-pigeons.