POETS' CORNER.

Otago Witness, Issue 1738, 14 March 1885, Page 24

POETS' CORNER.

Lap me in soft Lydian airs, Married to immortal verse. — Milton. To Daisy. Night's Bhadows gather round ire wbilo I read Over and o'er again the words you write, Telling of your cew borne in that wild land Of Bplendid solitude, a grandeur va«t And overawing', where scarce voice of man Is ho-»rd : alone the torrents' voices fcintr Praise to Jehovah, liko the organ grai d Ol some -vast temple. Ah, loved sister mitie, Can it be that bo many wesry mileß Now intervene between us? Cau it be That yon, whose hand bo lafca I held in mine, Are gazing in the twilight; o'er the plain Oa tho dim glaciers ot flfooria's alps? Or, mayhap, looking eastward thro' tho gloom Toward jour olden homo beside the soa, So fa*, so (ar away. Does fancy bring Our faces to your view ? Does memory tell Of happy days of aoul communion sweet. Those unforgoUen jojs that titno and cbango Can never teach me to forget ? Ah, no ; No bond however close can over be So close as that between your soul and mino In daya gone by Alae, that it ia bo, That we are parted now for evermore, For evermore ? No, though our paths on earth Are far apart, and as the yeare go on {■till farther may dlveruo, j et iv that home To which our faces hoth are turned, wo know lhat " earth divided friends at last shall meofc To part no more." March 7. S. H. O. M. Fidelity. So loot? ago I It eeeniH but yesterday We stood beneath the quivering staw to patt ; Ho hopetul as a man, my woman heart Kaint with foreboding. ♦ ' L^ve,' I hear him Bay— " Let yon bright stars be witness while away That I am true, for doubting doth impart .A pain more grievous than the passing eniart Of separation." lam old and gray, But still I wait and watch the stan at) night. I scarce can hopo, I have no voice for prayer. I ceaao to dream htg form doth glad tnv 8l«ht, I only love and tru,--*. The stars ore there And ho ia trun. And Love will reunite Our aunder'd eouls, or here or otherwhere. — E. V. Chbvbrxon, in The Current. Fainthearted. o I stand where two roads part ; Lotd, art thou with mo in the shadows horo? I cannot lift my heavy eyes to ooe. Speak to me if Thou art ! 1 tremble, and my heart la cold with fear ; Dark iB the way Thou hast appointed me. From the bright faco of day Id winds for down a val ey dark aa death, And pharda and thorna await my BhrinUing leet ; An icy nriat and grey Cornea to me, chilling mo with awful breath ; How c&mt Thou Bay Thy yoke is light and sweet ? Nay, tbose are pale who go Down tha grey shadows ; esch one, tired and worn, Bearing a cross that gilleth him full sore ; And blood of this doth flow, And that one's pallid brows axe rayed with thorn, And eves are Dlind with weeping evermore. Still they press onward fast, And tbe shades compass them ; now, far away, I see a great hill thaped like Calvary ; Will they come there at last 1 A reflex from some far fair perfect day Touches the high clear faces goldenly. Ah ! ponder path ia fair, And musical with many singing birds, Large golden, fruit and rainbow-coloured flowers The wayside branches bear ; Tbe air ia murmurous with sweet love-words, And heartß are singing through the happy hours. Kay, I shall look no more Take thou my hands between thy firm fair handß And still their troinb.ing, and I shall not weep, Some day, the journey o'er My feet shall tread the svill safe evening lands, And thou canst give to thy beloved, sleep. And though thou dead not speak, And the mists hide thee, now 1 know thy foot Will troad tho path my feet walk wearily ; Some day tho mista will bicik, And sudden looking up, mice oyea shall meet Thine eyes, and lo 1 thiae arms shall gather me. — Kathkrine Tynan. No Thoroughfare. " Oh, cany me, then," cried the fair coquette, " To the land where never I've journeyed yetTo that phore Viheie lovo fe lasting ai>d change unknown, .And a man is faithful to ooe aloi.e Evermcro." " Go, teok that land for a year and a day ; At the end of the time you'll be still far away, Pretty maid. 'Tls a country unlettered in map or in chart-, 'Tie a country thsfc does Dot exist, sweetheart, i'm afraid." — From the French.