LADIES’ PAGE.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 761, 1 October 1886, Page 4

LADIES’ PAGE.

Saving appointed a lady to conduct this page, we have to request that all communications upon domestic matters, dress, cuisine, t&c. tfcc., be addressed to Madame Elisk, of ike New Zealand Mail.

LOVE’S LOGIC.

I —HER RESPECTABLE PAPA’S. “ My dear, be sensible ! • Upon my word This—for a woman even—is absurd; His income’s not a hundred pounds, I know,. He's not worth loving.”—•“ But I love him so.’

ll—her mother’s. “ You silly child, he is well made and tall; But looks are far from being all in all. His social standing’s low, his family’s low. He’s not worth loving.”—“ And I love him so.”

lir—HER ETERNAL FRIEND’S. “ Is that he picking up the fallen fan ? My dear ! he’s such an awkward, ugly man ! You must be certain, pet, to answer ‘No.’ He’s not worth loving."—“ And Hove him so.”

IV— HER BROTHER S. “ By Jove ! were I a girl—through horrid hap— I wouldn’t have a milk-and-water chap. The man has not a single spark of ‘ go,’. He’s not worth loving,”—“ Yet I love him so.

v —HER OWN. ‘* And were he everything to which I’ve listened, Though he were ugly, awkward (and he isn’t). Poor, low-born, and destitute of‘go,’ He is worth loving, for l love him so." —Chambers Journal

FACE TO FACE.

Sad mortal ! couldst thou but know

What truly it means to die. The wings of thy soul would glow, And the hopes of thy heart beat high ; Thou wouldst turn from the Pyrrhonist schools, And laugh their jargon to scorn, As the babble of midnight fools Ere the morning of Truth be bom : But I, earth’s madness above, In a kingdom of stormless breath— I gaze on the glory of love In the unveiled face of Death.

I tell thee his face is fair As the moon-bow’s amber rings, And the gleam in his unbound hair Like the flush of a thousand springs; His smile is the fathomless beam Of the star-shine’s sacred light, Where the summers of southland dream In the lap of the holy Night; For I, earth’s blindness above, In a kingdom of halcyon breath— I gaze on the marvel of love In the unveiled face of Death.

In his eyes a heaven there dwells— But they hold few mysteries now— And his pity for earth’s farewells Half furrows that shining brow; Souls taken from Time’s cold tide He folds to his fostering breast. And the tears of their grief are dried Ere they enter the courts of rest; And still, earth’s madness above, In a kingdom of stormless breath, I gaze on a light that is love In the unveiled face of Death.

Through the splendor of stars impearled In the glow of their far-off grace. He is soaring world by world, With the souls in his strong embrace ; Lone ethers, unstirred by a wind, At the passage of Death grow sweet With the fragrance that floats behind The flash of his winged retreat ; And I, earth’s madness above, ’Mid a kingdom of tranquil hreath, Have gazed on the lustre of love In the unveiled face of Death. But beyond the stars and the sun I can follow him still on his way, Till the pearl-white gates are won In the calm oi the central day. Far voices of fond acclaim Thrill down from the place of souls, As death, with a touch like flame, Uncloses the goal of goals; And from heaven of heavens above God speaketh with bateless breath— My angel of perfect love Is the angel men called Death ! —Paul H. Hayne