A Morning Walk.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 913, 30 August 1889, Page 4

A Morning Walk.

Though we have said good-by. Clasped hands and parted ways, nay dreams and J, Thera still is beauty on the earth and glory in the sky. The world has not grown old With foolish hopes, nor commonplace nor cold, Nor is there any tarnish on the happy harvest gold. I Spent was the night in sighing In tears and vain regrets, heartache and crying Lo 1 breaks the windy, aiure mom. with clouds tumultuous flying ! Jjife is not all a cheat, A sordid struggle, trite and incomplete, When sun and shadow flee across the billows of the wheat? When upward pierces keen The lark’s shrill exultation o’er the slseen Qf the young barley’s wavy fleece of silky silvery green. Didst think, 6 narrow heart ! Iphat mighty Nature shared thy puny smart ? Face her seiene, heart whole, heart free, that is the better part. Are the high heavens bent A vatilt of snow and sapphire wonderment htereiy to arch, dull egotist, thy .dismal discontent 1 W.ouldst pour into the ear Of the young morn the thoughts that make thee

drear, ' yiew the land s joyous splendour through the folly of a tear ? The boon thou hast not had—»Tis a slight trivial thing to make thee sad When with the sunshine and the storm God’s glorious world is glad, ’Tis guilt to weep for it 1 When blithejhe swallows by the poplars flit, Aslant they go, pied cloven gleams through leafage golden lit! While breezy purples stain The long low grassy reaches of the plain Where ashen pale the alders quake before the hurricane. J ■ Ah’ there are’still delights Hid is the multitude of common sights, The drear and wonted pageants of the summer days and nights. The word is not yet saidOf ultimate ending, we are quick, not dead. Though the dim years withhold from us one frail joy v coveted. Our life is all too brief, "he world too wide too wonderful for grief, Coo crowded with the loveliness of bird and bud and leaf. So though we said good-bye With bitter futile tears, my dream and I 3ach slender blade of wayside grass is clothed with majesty I 7 - -The Cornhill.