STRICKEN.
There is a voice whose wondrous intonations Have struck a depth of longing in my heart ; There is a face whose eyes of sparkling lustre Have burned an image that will ne er depart. They haunt me night and day— mid toll, mid pleasure, Or in the busy crowd, or lone retreat. Again I hear the measured accents falling, Again I see the slight form pasting fleet, There is a chord within the bosom hidden That thrills responsive to one touoh alone ; And in the silence oft I start in wonder To hear the echo of the well-loved tone. At ev'n I contemplate fcha starry.splendour And watch the glories of each cryital sphere. But, oh t the grass is often wet with weeping, With burning tears when none but Bod is near. For we by adamantine bars are sundered,— The curse of caste looms like a cloud between My heart. Oh, God I I can no longer bear it, To think what is, and all that might have been. -S. A. D. Fort Chalmers, August 14.
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/OW18900821.2.131
Bibliographic details
Otago Witness, Issue 1906, 21 August 1890, Page 33
Word Count
177STRICKEN. Otago Witness, Issue 1906, 21 August 1890, Page 33
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