POET'S CORNER.

Otago Witness, Issue 1795, 17 April 1886, Page 24

POET'S CORNER.

Lap me in soft Lydian airs, Married to immortal verst.

— Milton.

Vastness.

Many a hearth upon our dark globe sighs after many

a vanish'd fare. Many a planet by many a sun may roll with the dust of a vanish'd race. Having politics, never at rest— as this poor earth's Dale history runs — . What is it all but a trouble of ants m the gleam ot a million million of suns ? Lies upon this side, lies upon that side, truthless violence mourn'd by the wise, Thousands of voices drowning his own in a popular torrent of Hob upon liea ; Stately purposes, valour in battle, glorious annals of army and fleet, Death for the right cause, death for the wrong cause, Trumpets of victory, groans of defeat ; Innocence seethed in her mother's.milk, and Charity setting the martyr aflame ; Thraldom who walks with a banner oi Freedom, and reeks not to ruin a realm in her name. Faith at her zeuith, or all but lost in the gloom of doubts that darken the Bchools ; Craft with a bunch t.f all-heal in her hand, follow d up by her vassal legion of fools ; Pain that has crawled from the corpse of Pleasure, a worm which writhes all day, and at night Stirs up again in the heart of the sleeper, and stings him back to the curse of light ; Wealth with his wines and his wedded harlots; Flattery gilding the rift of a throne ; Opulent Avarice, lean as Poverty ; honest Poverty bare to the bone ; Love for the maiden crown'd with marriage, no regrets for aught that has been . Household happiness, gracious children, deathless competence, golden mem; National hatreds of whole generations, and pigmy

spites of the village spire ; Vows that will last to the last death-ruckle, and vow that are snapt in a moment of fire ; He that has lived for the lust of the minute, and died in the doing it, flesh without mind ; He that has nail'd all the flesh to the Cross, till Self died out in the love of His kind ; Spring and summer and autumn and winter, and all these old revolutions of earth ; All new-old revolutions of Empire— change of the tide— what is all of it worth ? What the philosophies, all the sciences, posy, vary-

ing vo Cfs of prayer? All that is noblest, all that is basest, all that is filthy

with all that is fair ? What is it all, if we all of us end in being our own

corpse-coffins at last, Swallowed in Vastness. lost in silence, drown d in the deeps of a meaningless Past ? What but a murmur of gnats in the gloom, or a moment's anger of bees in their hive?— Peace, let it bo 1 for I loved Him, and love Him tor ever ; the dead are not dead but, alive. — Tennysox.

Simmer's Away. Nae langer th' flow'rets smile o'er fch' green lea, Nae langer th' go wan faulds up its salt e'e, Nae langer th' birdies in ilk leafy spray, Our hearts fill vn' rapture, for Simmer's away. The clear wimpliti' burnie that loupt o'er the linn, An' charmed a' our hearts wi 1 its daffin' an 1 din, Now slowly an' sadly creeps round the steep brae, An' croons a lament for the Simmer away. The blithe spankie lasses that ski pp'd o'er the braes, An' sang like wee Unties the lanjj sunny days ; Now dander tor foucht en wi' sorrow an' wae, An' mourn a' the beauties o' Simmer away. Yon hie-castled tower on the ivy-clad steep, That smiled o'er the waves o' the isle-spangled deep, An' in gladness reioiced amid auld time s decay, Now frowns o'er the wreck o' sweet Simmer away. Nae mair fie wee lammiea frisk o'er the glad lea, Or the birdies sing love lays frae ilka green tree, A' nature is silent an' dow'ie an* wae, Her tear drap she sheds for the Simmer away. Pale autumn has come wi' her leaves brown and sere, An' robb'd o' her beauties the queen o' the year, While winter approaches wi' mantle o' grey, To choose wi' his storm-blasts sweet Simmer away. The bard, whae inspired wi' creation's glad strain, An' culled a' the flowers o' the hill an' the plain. Now wanders alane amid nature's decay, An' mourns for his idol — his Simmer away John G. Smith.