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Otago Witness, Issue 1630, 26 August 1871, Page 21

Select Poetry.

THE OLD HOMESTEAD, Ah ! here it ia, that dear old place, Unchanged through all these years ; How like some sweet, familiar face My childhood's home appears ! The "rand old trees beside the door Still spread their branches wide, The river wanders as of yore, With sweetly murmuring tide ; The distant hills look green and gray, The flowers are blooming wild, Ami everything looks glad to-day, As when I was a child. Regardleaa how the years have flown, Half wondering I stand ; I catch no fond, endearing tone, I clasp no friendly hand ; think my mother's smile to meet, I list my father's call, pause to hear my brother's feet Coiuo bounding through the hall j But silence all around me reigns, A chill creeps through my heart — No trace of those I love remains, And tears unbidden start, What though the sunbeams fall as fair, What though the budding flowers Still shed their fragrance on the air, Within life's golden hours ? The loving oned that clustered here These walls may not restore ; Voices that tilled my youthful ear Will greet my soul no mure. And yet I quit the dear old place With alow and lingering tread, As M'hen we kiss a clay-cold face, A}»d leave it with the dead.