LITERARY COLUMN.

Evening Post, Volume XLVIII, Issue 66, 15 September 1894, Page 1 (Supplement)

LITERARY COLUMN.

This Column is open to literary contributions, good and short. Two prizes will be given at the end of the quarter. "Wheat-sheaf."—We nover received any contributions from you. Hope you will send some in. " Ganymede."—Your contribution to hand. It is good. Appended are two poems, which are highly commended, by "Atlas" and "F.H." : A REVERIE. As the leaves float down a river, So our lives drift on forever To a distant unknown future—to a realm beyond the sky. Earthly hopes and passions leave us, Earthly cares no longer grieve us, All our hopes and passions centred in the love of Him on high. Is this so ? or are we dreaming Of a life that has no meaning — Idle stories, idly written by the ancient priests of old P Would our heaven not seem much nearer, All our thoughts of it much clearer. If the story of our future were in plainer language told ?— If we knew the loved departed, Who have left us broken-hearted, Could renew their love and longing when we joined them on that shoro ?—? — If we knew the child would greet us, And the youth or maiden meet us, In the semblance they had left us in the forma of long before ? Earthly hopes and earthly passions, All that moulds and all that fashions Earthly life, so full of longing and of patient hope and love — Purified we could renew thorn, Purified we could pursue them To a high and holy nature, in that home of light above. But the future's darkly hidden, Lifting of the veil's forbidden, Faith is offered, aud faith only, as our guide to that bright throne ; But a reasoning, thinking mortal, Standing near the heavenly portal, Asks of faith the simple question—" What is faith in the Unknown ?" —"Atlas." A MATTER OF HISTORY. " Well, children," to my class I said, " We find at last Queen Anne is dead; Of what, pray, did she die ?" They shook their heads—they could not tell. " Oh, shocking, shocking ! children, well 'Twas apoplexy. Why " A rippling laugh the school-house fills, And eager, bright-faced Ethel Mills (In merry mood was she) Said gaily—"l can undeistand ; Poor thing ! she'd nineteen children, and Died of perplexity !"