Original Poetry.

Hawke's Bay Herald, Volume 3, Issue 111, 5 November 1859, Page 5

Original Poetry.

'/■ lines OSf A WITHERED DAISY, THE aiST OP A X>EPAST££ FBrBSD. Thou art withered and faded, my flower ! All my care arid my love, could not save, And the hand that gave thee in a happier hour Has long been as dead in the grave, And the tears shed on theo when her young life wa/i o'er, Might have brought back thy life and thy brightness once more. Thy leaves are all falling, my flower! And no colour is left them to tell Of the beauty, the grace, and the heart-soothing power That once in thy blossom did dwell ; So the once fair young maiden our loving hearts blessed Is withered, like thee, in the place of her rest. Like thee she- was simple and pure, Like thee, without pride she was fair, Like thee she was simple, — all hearts could allure, Like thee she had no thought of care ; And I thought as she smilingly gave thee to me, That she was — unknowing — a mirror of thee. Alas ! she was too much like thee, For not long had thy blosaom been given Ere she died, — but she broke from the earth and was free, And she went to a mansion in heaven ; And I wept o'er her corse ere 'twas hud in the grave, And all that I had was the daisy she gave. They think I am thoughtless and light, — They know not the depth of mj mirth, And atill in my heart is the void and the night That came when she went from the earth ; And a daisy like thee when she gave thee to me, Brings a pang to my heart that they think not can be. Thou art withered and faded, my flower! All my care and my love could not save, And the liand that gave thee in a happier hour, Has long been as cold in the grave ; And the tears shed on thee when her young life was o'er, Might have brought back thy life and thy beauty once more. M. A. Te Mata.