POETRY.

Globe, Volume XXIV, Issue 2634, 15 September 1882, Page 3

POETRY.

TWENTY YEABB. Beg your pardon, eld fellow! I thick I was dreaming just now when you spoke } The fact is, the musical clank Of the ice on your wine goblet's brink A ohork of my memory woke. And I stood in tke pastime field where Twenty summers ago I had stood; And I heate in that sound, I declare. The clinking of the bal's on the air. Of the cows coming home from the wood. Then the apple-blossoms on the hill ; And the mullein-stalks tilted each lance ; And the sun behind “ Rapatj ’• " mill Was my uttermost west, and could thrill Like some fanciful land of romance. Then my friend was a hero, and then The girl was an angel. In fine I drank buttermilk, tor at ten Faith asks less to aid her thsn when At thirty we doubt over wine. Ah well it does seem that I must Haro been dreami: g just now when you spoke. Op lost, very like in the dust Of the years that sljw fashioned the crust On the bottle seal yon last broke. Twenty years was its age, did yon say f Twenty years ? Ob, my friends, it is true! All the dreams that have flown since that day, All the hopes in that time passed away, Old friend I’ve been drinking with yon. —Bbkt Habt*. AS THE WIND BLOWS. [“ Harper V’] The winds North, the wind bliws South,

The wind blows East and West; No matter how the free wind blow, Some ship will find it best; Some one out on the wide, wide sea Shoots with a happy air, “Ho ! shipmates, ho set all the sails. The wind is blowing fair!” One ship sails out into the East, Another to the West ; One has to struggle fierce and hard. By winds and waves oppressed, Under bare masts, tossed to and fro. By rain and sat spray wet; The other flies before the gale With all all her white sails set. “ O wind, O wind, why dost thon blow, And ont to ocean roar, When I would steer my little bark Toward some pleasant shore ? What honour will it be to thee If down beneath the wave My simple craft and I shall find A cold forgotten grave f " “ O foolish one, why wilt thou steer Against the mighty gale 7 There are ten thousand ships afloat Beside thy tiny sail. If thon would float o’er pleasant seas, Oppose my will no more; When I blow shoreward, then do thon Sail also to the shore. “ Yet if thy will with mine most strive,. Do then the best thon can; Against my might set all tby skill, And fight me like a man. Stand by the wheel, steer steadily ; Seep watoh above, below j Such hearts will make the ports they seek No matter what wind blow.”