The Poet’s Corner.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 996, 3 April 1891, Page 4

The Poet’s Corner.

THE GALLANT SKATERS. They stood beside the frozen pond. The fee was clear and thin ; The girl was timid, he was brave, And straightway tumbled in. She Bcreamed; he smiled ; then tenderly. Though shiv'ringly, ho said; * Be calm, my own ; for fools rush in Where angels fear to tread.’ A VISION OF THE FUTURE. A docker, wearing gants de Suede, Came driving to the station; For since he was so badly paid. He’d left his situation. He tipped the cabby like a nob. Threw open his frock-coat, Shsiled oat a shilling from his fob, And coughed to clear his throat, •Here, porter, take my bag’ he Baid, And slyly showed the bob. The porter shook hlB injured head, And checked a sudden sob, For bobs I drags no bags around, For you, sir, or for banyone ; There’s shilling porters to bo found, But I’m an elghteenpenny one.’ A THOUGHT. Hava I touched to-night on a silent chord Thatdeep in your heart has lain, Waking to life an unborn thought With a throb that is almost pain ? Hid I sound some depth that you recked not of. Or what was so dimly known That but for the searching voice that spoke It had lain there lost, alone ? But now, although the thought Itself •Is fraught with sense of pain, You would not crush its bursting life To know such peace again. For better far this ceaseless strife With reason’s subtle sound Than lethargy’s dull, deadened mind That creeps its daily round. Nay, do not thank me for the touch Which waked the slumbering soul. In that 1 gave I much received. And mark the perfect whole ! ’Tis bliss to know my thought in yours,, For sympathy's gauging-rod Will sometimes touch in human hearts Depths known alone to God. AN EMPLOYER’S ADVICE. Come, don’t sit there moping and sighing. Look alive, man—brace up—go to work ? You never can win without trying, Success never comes to the Bhirk, By toiling and striving You get to the top. Keep pushing and driving ; Till you get there, don’t stop. Jf Columbus had weakened as you do. Where would we be—pray tell mo—to-day If the whole world gave out as a few do. The world wouldn’t have long to stay. By struggling and working Contentment Is won. So don’t think of shirking Till dnty is done. I suppose that sometimes it’s unpleasant To keep on when you’d much rather rest. But, you know, there’s no time like the present, And we’re looking, of course, for the test. The Idler and dreamer Will fall In the end. Your only redeemer Is Hustle, my friend. So keep at It, no matter how tired Or disgusted with life you may be. Do the duty for which you are hired, Most of all when you're working for me. Keep digging forever And never ait still. You’ll win by ondeavour— Or, if you don’t, I will.