Select Poetry.

Otago Witness, Issue 555, 19 July 1862, Page 7

Select Poetry.

FALMOUTH FIRE, APRIL 12, 1862. By Johs Harris. MMnight was o:i the mountains, MMnigkt was on the town, And sleep, tli? balmy seraph, Game -wuetly, Reutly down, Sealing: the H'ls ofsorro v, flushing the storm of strife, Anil calnrng down to quiet The busy hum of life. Th* stars were in their dwellings, -<■■% Watching the world helov, •' 'jf Ami on her path of silver. * "-'' The white moon travelled slow; Whoa forth the monster hurried, With fury on his crest, And face upon tii-j forehead, And flamea upon his breast. With awfal, savage grandeur, Thftroofhe rushes -.'er, Foi-e'nsr l)i=s flaming lingers Through window and through door. The ship, within the harbour, The boats a-ntnr the place, Are shining in the anj?er, That flashes from his face. With lurid look he rushes Across the narrow street, Thrusting his r d arms iipwird, Which* in the centre meet, And hiss with chilling fury. No wat rs <so >rae can tamo, Or art -avail to lessen — A canopy of flam' 1 . The youth, tin tiniij maiden, And manh >ol in if prim :. Ami old am o'emin w.th wrinkle?, And whitened much by Him; — The mother with her baby Bsneath the sinning star, All fle i before the- monster, Wnose eyelids flash afar. Yet, in this dread tornado, The breeze of mercy flow, No humau life was injured In all this rush of wop?. Qod saved t\n ctrioken pr.ient, And child upon his kaet — No lot however bitter But it might bitterer b . We pass not by the matron, \Vho in the drcaJtul roar Rose up to leave her dw -11 nx, Perehan :e fjr evermor : ; And fm in her shelf the Bibl J She snatched with tearful eyes, Tiie host ofali her h-eomirps," Her chiefeit, richest pra-\ God bless the iiob'e-heartH, For many a gpneroin d.;ed, For bounty richly flowing, In this the time of need. In otlie ■ clim-is are heroes, Wnos" 1 ninias illustrious sta id, But n me are truly griuter Thin in our nativ.i land. « AFTER WAR. He came wh^n the war \vn "n.l a I From camp an 1 h ittle-tield, Home, to be gently tandel. Hid heavy wound half-healed. After the jiy ot me3tim; ; Witli its mingle 1 pain had passe.!, Peace, with a holy greeting, Kissed all our lips at last. But when on her stay we reckona.l A sad farewell she breathe 1, And rose and sofcly backone.l To him whose sword toi sheatlie.l. He laid him down nicek-hearte.l, We filled his br.*ast with flowers ; Our hero had departed To a surer peace than ours. — ha, in Scotsman.