Selected Poetry.

Lake Wakatip Mail, Issue 1588, 6 May 1887, Page 3

Selected Poetry.

WHAT MAN HAS DONE FOB MAN. How many bards have strung the lyre And made its cords vibrate. To longt that told in words of fire Of man's greed, pride, and hate! Bat few have half so boldly stood To face this powerful elan, And sing in praise of all the good That man bad done for man. The world is full of noble men Whose hearts with pity swell, Who do their kindly actions when None see, and none can tell. The thousand forms in which ws tee Great Charity's vaet plan, Tell with as many tongues to me What man has done for man. Like ocean-scums, men's eril deeds Upon the surface flow, While in an under-current spreads Each good deed far below. The good we cannot fully knowIn Time we never can. Eternity alone will show What mad has done for man. THE SONG OF THE EXILE. From the French. When you show me a rose 'Neath the blue sky a-bloom Canst tell why it throws O'er my soul deeper gloom ? When you shew me a rose— It is that I dream of a forehead more pure, And tbe exile's tad heart can no longer endure When you show me a rose. When you show me a star, Whence these tears that arise ? Why do blinding mists mar. Like a veil, my ssd eyes P When you show me a star— It is that I dream of a maid's brighter glance, Who pines lor the exile in fair, sunny Fraoce, When you shew me a star. When the swallow you shew, Which with summer-tide flies, Carat say why in its woe My sad soul inly dies ? When the swallow jou show— It is that I feel as Lore leads it may roam, But tbe exile may never return to his home, When tbe swallow you shew.