AN ACROBAT’S LAMENT.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1748, 6 September 1905, Page 10

AN ACROBAT’S LAMENT.

(By Carolyn Wells.) Alackaday I and woe is me! I J m. broken past repair, you see; My day is o’er; and, banished, I With worn-out toy® must be laid by. Mine is a sad and sorry plight; My wooden, .heart is broken quite. Yet some dear memories have power To cheer me in this dreadful hour; I cannot be entirely sad, Rememberin' 1 : those I have made glad,—* Thinking bow often my gay wiles Brought to tlie children merry smiles. Why, when I’d turn a somersault, Or high above my stick I’d vault, The baby crowed with lively squeals, And Bobby’s laughter rang in peals; And when I’d spring or jump or climb, Dorothy chuckled every time! And so, though I can’t do a trick,— Though I can’t even climb my stick, And nobody with me will play, And soon I must be thrown away, It' cheer® my broken heart of wood To know that I have done some' good. —St. Nicholas.