The Poet’s Corner.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 978, 28 November 1890, Page 4

The Poet’s Corner.

ONE AGE. They tell me that the difference in our age Is far too great. What do they know of love ? We are of just one age. Oar life began' When first we looked into each other’s eyes; We had not lived till then. PEACE IN THE SOCIAL VINEYAED. If you would go the proper way to pacify Society, To bring in the millennium and put a stop to Strife, Get a lot of feeble nobodies of every known variety. And bid them meet and teach the world the gentler way In life Get a gentleman from Kansas to depreciate pugnacity, A New York lady orator, two Belgians and three Swedes, Add a water politician so renowned for his vivacity, A millionaire, a marquesß and a delegate from Leeds.

The gentle Gallic spirit which objects to deeds colonial (On the part or other nations), will come in for proper praise ; You’ll arrange for Arbitration with due legal ceremonial, And annihilate the soldier with his naughty, fighting nays. If any one reminds you that the blood-stream gushes gaily, That as yet the lion still prefers to have the lamb inside— You’ll repay that you’ve the sanction of a leading London daily, And that Moral Suasion is a force which cannot be denied. Then propose your resolution about Universal Brotherhood, Though some say ‘solidarity’ (whatever that may he), Then finish up with soothing chat of Father and Grandmotherhood. And with blessings on the Masses, go with dignity to tea. /

A HOT DAY. The day is drooping with the surdmer’s spell, Without a wind to stir the rippling sheet Of ocean into billows, and to boat the bi-ink of teach with those loud lengths of swell 1 That scooped the 3and to wavelets whore they fell At the last tide : no breaths of breezes meet The outstretched face that craves for cool; the heat Seats down so blindingly, methinks 'tis well That the blue splendours of the upper sky Are duller for a smoldering, dreamy haze ; Yet even so this stillness is to me A state in which I neither live nor d!e t But lie and hear through lengths of dazzling * days Low laughter of the countless-dimpling sea, ROMANCE AND LIFE. There's an old-fashioned hammock that swings ’neath tbe-tree», While the soft Summer winds come and go. It rocks all the day with the rhythmical breeze, And sways to and fro, to and fro. lt*s tattered and torn, and It’s faded and gray, Btit each shred is more precious than gold; Bor wrapped In that hammock Love whispered me • Yea,’ When I plead in the manner of old. Sow she, in the house, turns to pies and to cake The thoughts that were once all for me, While I—prod the hammock with my long-handled rake. As I glean ronnd the hole of the tree.