Oh t what Is life ? Why ebould we think it sweet When ev'ry day briDgs nothing but deceit? New joys denied, the old ones pasted •way We mill look forward to the oomlng day. Tho little bird juat newly from the neat Looka forward dally to ita ev'nlag reit ; Tho little maid, the oarlyheaded boy, With hope look forward to eaoh promlioa toy. I will remember all my early days, My ohtldlah lmpalae and my sportive ways, When guile had hardly tinged my boylah miud, When I was free and joyous sa the wind, I roamed aroaud throagh every shady nook Ani fiebed for minnows In the purling brook. Hope then began to throb within my breast, And made ma feol more eager m my quest To hook the minnow In the H&pid pool, To play tho truant and nvold the sohool. My shadow eeem'd the brooklet to affright, The minnow aalkily rafa«ed to bite. Thou In the woods, wi'.h fiohoolmatos blithe and gay, I romped and played from dawn till oloie of day m squirrel hunting. Oh ! I ace it now. Tho squirrel always gained the topmost bough, And there clung on In sunshine and In rain ; To bring btm down we tried, bat tried m vain. He blinked upon us with his glittering eyes, And now I think the Htt'e fellow wise. Hia nuts he cracked, nor heeded stick, nor alone, Till dlaappotntod urchins all were gone. So tfma wears on, and will wear on again Till those who once were boys grow bearded mon, And with Hfj's over ebbing flowing tide Are BOftttered o'er the ocean far and wide. In manhood's vigour all the world they dare To meet with disappointment or despair, To roam theearth, to joic m bloody strife. To meet an early grave. Ah ! such la llf 1 Tet eotne auooeed by aoaldeot or stealth And hoard up vast accumulated wealth. On these "Dame Fortune " lavish gift* bestows And ev'ry brcez* brings fortune ai it blows.
More gold they crave, to gather it they press And deem eaoh tacky coup a new caress. For them the world prepares a smiling faoa Because they 'to foremost m the money race, Till one grim fellow oomes amid the gloom,
A soythe his weapon, and hti gift the tomb. For him bright gold bad never any ohnrme, Be grasps the victim m his leaden arms, And Oklmly waiting for the final garp, Enfolds him Id his cold and clayey clasp, Id vain the tears of child, of loving wife : Hlb hour is oome at last. Ah I eaoh Is
life! Bereft, alone, ■ why should they long repine. But numbly bow unto the will divine,
Death Is the fate of every mortal man, ' None can ontroaoh his doe appointed span: Yet whilst we're here let none turn deaf
and flee From, olaims of|*retohed poor humanity ; Let none, upon his hoarded wealth set store
Nor drive the famished beggar from his door; Stab not bis neighbor with the slanderer's knife ; Then may we a]l enjoy a better life, The rioh may revel In their wealth to-day, To-morrow comes and snatohes them away. Hope be oor watchword for* the coming years Till golden sunshine wipes away all tears. Tim Doolaw. Mount Eden, Maroh 20, 1889.
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