Original Poetry.

Otago Witness, Issue 1160, 21 February 1874, Page 26

Original Poetry.

MY SPIRITS.

In solitude, when all the world Is banished from my sight, As in my dreams, my fancy seems To wander in its flight. Backward, on lightning: pinions swift, It speeds to years Rone by, And once again, apart from men, A little child am I. My father stands beside me now— His voice falls on my ear— My faults he chides, my footsteps guides : I feel his spirit near. O! sweet communion ! thrilling joy ! [ hear my mother speak. Her f.icc I sue bent down to me, And kiss her spirit cheek. She clasps me to her bosom tight, Smiles while her tears flow, And breathes a prayer that cruel care Her boy may never know. Ah ! sainted mother, through those years Your words have been my guide : The world I've met undaunted yet, \ our spirit by my bide. I may have erred— and deeply too— (Hut few indeed have not) ; The fairest scroll do but unroll, Perchance you'll find a Mot. Spirits of loved ones come anon, Brothers and sisters sweet; The sad, the guy, they pass iiwuy, And to spirit land retreat. I need no magic circle made, Link'd hands nor darkened room : By the deep si a 1 call to me My spirits from the tomb. They rise before me at my will ; I hear them cv'ry word— A warning tone, advice that's known— ThouglTnot a sound is heard. Avaunt ! I need no table raps, No alphabet spelled out, With labour slow for " Yes " or " No " With me there is no doubt. I would not have my spirits so Dole out such common talk Close to my lap with puzzling tap, And 'neath a table walk. But in the silent hours of night Around my pillowed head ' They hov'ringfiy, and then do I Ilbld commune with my dead. Lancelot Bootu.