The Poet’s Corner.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 995, 27 March 1891, Page 4

The Poet’s Corner.

YOUR, HEART AND MINE. Wo sometimes sigh and «e can’t toll why, And wo sometimes laugh at our care. Wo are sometimes sad when the world Is glad, And wo weep when the skies are fair. There's an underflow to the joy and woe That comes with a touch divine. In the pleasure and pain, the sunshine and rain, That, steals into your heart and mine. There are phantom hosts of dead hopes’ ghosts. And the echo of funeral bells ; There’s the lasting bliSB of a fadeless kiss And the pleasure our dream fortells. There the hopes eniombed and the joys unbloomed Their lilies and ivy entwine. And no one knows of the thorn and the rose That are hidden in your heart and mine, RONDEAU. Whisper ! I love sincerely. Say can you hear me clearly ? My voice I pitch so low— Why, you must surely know, ’Tis leßt another hear mo. Whom do I love so dearly 3 Lives she afar or near me ? List then—nay, stand just so. Whisper ! You will, at least, not jeer me, If. as, alas ! I fear me, My hopes I must forego. I love—you ! Will you ? ‘No !’ I hear, tbo’ you, too, merely Whisper ! THE EVENING STAR. Low in the sky, beyond the tree-crowned hill. With streaming tress and eyes that softly thrill Stands, as of old, serene and calm and still, The same sweet goddess that I used to know In the dim ages of the long ago— A soul of lire within a breast of snow. As ever gracious and most golden-fair. The heart’s deep wonder of the twilight air, Most beautiful, most bright, she standoth there. Withdrawn forever from life’s fret and jar, O light of love, thou unforgotten star, How dear thou art—how near, and yet how far ! And lingering long, and waiting for a token. A touch as light as air, a word as lightly spoken. I linger Btill and wait—the silence still unbroken. And as I dream the dreams of other years. Below the hill the vision disappears, And darkness falls—with these slow-gathering tearsTILL TO-MORROW-Bo kind, dear love, and never say * Good-bye !’ But always when we’re parting— ‘ Till to-morrow. So shall my lips forget to frame a sigh. And hope smile fondly in the face of sorrow. For if, indeed, it be but little Bpace Before our parted steps again are meeting. ’Twill cheat the hours to haste their Jagging paea If memory linger still on thought of greeting. Or should our feet diverge through weary days And dreary nights, tho chaugiug seasons bringing. The flinty sharpness of our lonely ways Will somewhat smooth, while thus the heart i s singing. And if—O saddest chance !—God’s pitying hands Should wide as life and death our paths dissever, What dearer thought could mend tho broken strands Than thus to wait, until we meet—forever !