Select Poetry

Otago Witness, Issue 1243, 25 September 1875, Page 19

Select Poetry

LOVE'S REALM.

By T. L. Harris. The body is not vile. Men make it so By harbouring vices in its. tenement. Sweet a.s the lily on its virgin stem, Sweet as the rose, that opes- its perfumed lips, And kisses the enamoured air of June, Is the fair child upon its, mother's breast, And the sweet ma-den in her girlhood'.s prime, And the young mother sacred unto God, Whose infant is a blossom of the soul, J Topped by His hand, and fresh from Paradise. The form is made to be the home of love, And <^ cry atom bathed in innocence, And joy and beauty, should diffuse its life, And thrill with song- to angels inly heard. The mother's bosom, Love's all-hallowed realm, Is no vile dust. Bom from the darkest a-'e Of superstition is that ancient creed That matter is the enemy of good, Accursed and h itcful to the Infinite; For every atom is a living thought, Dropped from the meditations- of a God, Its very essence an immortal love Of the incarnate Deity ; and all The inmost puNes of material things Are mediums for the pulses of His will. God's harmonics through mitter pour their flood Of billowy music. Nature is a rose Whos-e breath, and leaves, and buds, and flowers disclose The Iwauty of the One All-beautiful ; The grace and charm whose source is the Divine.