Roimata

Roimata

A bit about me

Hi every one

My name's Julie but I'm known as Roimata
I'm a New Zealander and i live in hamilton where I go to high school.
I'm a big fan of STAR TREK and any good comedy like friends, cupid, tool time, Ally Mcbeal.
I play the recorder, bagpipes, string double bass, paino and i have played guitar, clarinet, viola and oboe.
I hope to study music at uni in the year 2000.

My Favourite Poem

REEDY RIVER

Ten miles down Reedy River
A pool of water lies,
And all the year it mirrors
The changes in the skies,
And in that pool�s broad bosom
Is room for all the stars;
Its bed of sand has difted
O�er countless rocky bars.

Around the lower edges
There waves a bed of reeds,
Where water rats are hidden
And where wild duck breeds;
And glassy slopes rise gently
To ridges long and low,
Where groves of wattle flourish
And native bluebells grow.

Beneath the granite ridges
The eye may just discern
Where Rocky Creek emerges
From deep green banks of fern;
And standing tall between them,
The grassy she-oaks cool
The hard, blue-tinted waters
Before they reach the pool.

Ten miles down Reedy River
One Sunday afternoon,
I rode with Mary Campbell
To that broad bright lagoon;
WE left our horses grazing
Till shadows climbed the peak,
And Strolled beneath the she-oaks
On the banks of Rocky Creek.

Then home along the river
That night we rode a race,
And the moonlight lend a glory
To Mary Campbell�s face;
And I pleaded for my future
All thro� that moonlight ride,
Until our weary horses
Drew closer side by side.

Ten miles from Ryan�s crossing
And five miles below the peak,
I built a little homestead
On the Banks of Rocky Creek;
I cleared the land and fenced it
And ploughed the rich red loam;
And my first crop was golden
When I brought Mary home.

Now still down Reedy River
The grassy she-oaks sigh,
And the waterholes still mirror
The pictures in the sky;
And over all for ever
Go sun and moon and stars,
While the golden sand id drifting
Acriss the rocky bars;

But of the hut i builded
There are no traces now.
And many rains have levelled
The furrows of the plough;
And my bright days are olden,
For the twisted branches wave
And the wattle blossons golden
On the hill by Mary�s grave

Henry Lawson.

Favourite links


	STAR TREK Well I did warn you
	Hamilton Have a look at where I live
	STAR WARS I'm not just into star trek
Email me at: [email protected]

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