Select Poetry.
JANET'S QUESTIONS.
Jnnet ! my little Janet ! You think me wise, I know; And that when you sit ami question,. With ycur eager foce a-i low, I can tell you all you ask me ; My child, is it not so ? I can tell my little Janet Some things she well may prize; 1 could tell her some whose wisdom Would be foolish in her eyes ; There are things I would not tell her, They are too sadly wise. I can tell her of noble treasures, Of wisdom stored of old ; To the chests where they are holden I can give her keys of gold ; And as much as she can carry She may take away untold. But till her heart is opened, Like the book upon her knee, What is wi itten in its pages She cannot read or see ; Nor tell till the rose ha« blossomed 1 If red or white 'twill be, And till life's book is « pened And read through every age, Come questions, without answers, Alike from child and sage; Yet God himself is teaching His children page by page.
I still am askinor que c tions With each new leaf I see ; To \our new eyes, my Janet, Yet more revealed may be. You must ask of God the questions I fail to answer thee. I. C.
Permanent link to this item
https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/OW18660203.2.32
Bibliographic details
Otago Witness, Issue 740, 3 February 1866, Page 14
Word Count
223Select Poetry. Otago Witness, Issue 740, 3 February 1866, Page 14
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