WHEN IS THE TIME TO DIE?

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXVIII, Issue 11564, 30 January 1901, Page 3

WHEN IS THE TIME TO DIE?

I ASK'D the glad and happy child, Whose hands were filled vrith flowers, Whose silvery laugh ran.? free and wild, Among the vine-wreathed {bowers: ■■. I cross'd her sunny path find cried, "When is the time to dieP" "Not yet! not yet!" the child replied, And swiftly bounded by. ; I asked a maiden; back sine 'brew The tresses of her hair: \ Grief's traces o'er her cheeks I km w, Like pearls they glistened ; there: A flush passed o'er her lily brow, I heard her spirit sigh! > ' "Not now," she cried, " Oil, no! not r.ow: Youth is no time to die." [ ■;•*' I asked a mother as she -Dressed , Her first-born in her arms, 1 ■ As gently on her tender breast, She hushed her babe's alarms: • In quivering tones her accents came, Her eyes were dim with tears, " My boy his mother's lifei must claim For many, many years." I questioned one in manhood's prime, Of proud and fearless air: His brow was furrowed not. by time Or dimmed with woe or cure. In angry accents he replied, And flashed with scorn hi:j eye, " Talk not to me of death!" be cried, "For only age should die." I questioned age, for him the tomb Had long been all prepare But death, who withers youth and bloom, This man of years had spared. Once more his nature's dying fire Flashed high, and thus he cried: "Life, only life, is my desivo!" Then gasped and groaned and died. I asked a Christian, " Answer thou, When is the hour of death':"' A holy calm was on his brow And peaceful was his breath, And sweetly o'er his features stole - A smile, alight divine: *' I He spake the language of his sonl, My Master's time is minu."