The span of heaven to the sea,A lusty, rebel sun.
Then Maui's mother came to himWith weight of household woes:"I cannot get my tapa dryBefore the daylight goes.
"Mornings, I rise, and spread with careMy tapa on the grass;Evenings, I gather it again,A damp and sodden mass."
Then Maui rose and climbed at nightThe mountain. Dim and deepWithin the crater's bowl he sawThe sprawling sun asleep.
He looped his ropes, the mighty man;He whirled his sisal cords;They whistled like a hurricane,And cut the air like swords.
Up sprang the spider. Maui hurledHis lasso after him.
7
