The Long Ago.
Oh ! a wonderful stream is the river Time. As it flows through the realm of tears, With a musical rhythm and a faultless rhyme And a. broader sweep and a surge sublime As it blends with the ocean of years. How the winters are drifting like flakes of snow.
Aud the summers like buds between. And the year in the sheaf— %o they come and they go On the river's breast, with its ebb and flow,
As it glides in the shadow- and sheen. There's a magical isle up the river Time, Where the softest of ai>-6 are playing ; There's a cloudless sky and a tropical clime And a song as sweet as a vesper' 6 chime, And the Junes, with the roses are staying. And the name of this isle is the Long Ago, And we bury our treasures there ; There .are brows of beauty aud bosoms of snow, There aye heaps of dust— but we loved them so ! There are trinkets and tresses of hair. There are fragments of songs that nobody sings ; There's a part of an infant's prayer ; There are broken vows and pieces of rings. There's a lute unswept, and a harp without strings. And the garments she used to wear. There are hands that are waved when the tairy shore By the mirage is lifted in air, Aud we sometimes hear through the turbulent roar Soft voices we heard in days gone before, When the wind down the river is fair. Oh, remembered for ay be that blessed isle,
All the day of life till night ! When the evening comes, with its beautiful smile, And our eyes are closing in slumber awhile, May that Greenwood of soul be in sight.
The Long Ago.
Otago Witness, Issue 1777, 12 December 1885, Page 24
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