BY THE MAZARUNI RIVER. 
A SKIRL ON THE PIPES OF PAN. 
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Oh for the freedom of the hills— 
The strong breeze blowing ; 
Oh for the music of the rills 
In sinuous channels flowing ; 
Oh for the great broad River, 
Beneath the cloud-deck'd sky ; 
And the forests that sway and quiver, 
When the wanes on the shore beat high ! 
I. 
And the air is fill’d with odours 
From the delicately scented flowers ; 
And the little fish dart in the trenches 
That feed on the frequent showers ; 
And the humming-birds dart ‘mid the bushes, 
And the bigger birds call from the trees ; 
And the snake glides soft in the rushes, 
And the vulture floats on the breeze. 
II. 
And the green lizard basks in the sunshine ; 
And the blue-bird jlits to its tree ; 
And the cicada screams on the woodbine, 
That I brought from my home o'er the sea. 
And my bungalow stands on the hill-top, 
That commands all the scene from the height ; 
And I stand in the door-way at sun-drop, 
And drink in the air with delight ! 
IV. 
But the parrots through the open fly screeching 
To their roost on the tamarind tree ; 
And the frogs’ merry chirrup, far-reaching, 
Ts borne up the hill-side to me. 
