TO A. W.

Otago Witness, Issue 1927, 29 January 1891, Page 37

TO A. W.

t 'wish that you were here to-night. The day has closed with gentle rainAfter a morn of sunshine bright— And beating on the window pane, ■'• Becalls a hundred hours like these, When you were here, and not alone X heard the wind sigh in the trees, Like some lost spirit's plaintive moan. ■ I wish that you were here to sing One song in your Impassioned way, Which in its tender lingering Would haunt my memory many a day. The sweet, regretful, sad refrain Stays with a weird persistence still ; The rain against the window pane Hath power to wake it at its will. " In happier moments," hear it now t Your voice in its deep, tender tone. That made my heart so mutely bow To that sweet power that was your own. " Life's dream is o'er "—so sadly sung ; ■ And then from grave to brightly gay, Whioh through the fire-lit chamber rung, And chased all sadness far away. Then, in a quick, Impulsive mood, You took a master's noble theme, Who lived to do his fellow* good, And wake them from an idle dream. "I stood upon the bridge," he sang, Where care-encumbered men Have listened to the city's clang And passed away since then. Who often wished the ebbing tide Would bear him far away. Bub learned and taught a wisdom wide The time he had to stay ; Who lived to learn his lesson well, Of deepest sympathy, Until his song could sweetly swell, " 'Tis buried in the sea." The cares and labours deep they fell— " Were buried in the sea," And be the tale could calmly tell Of the soul's victory. " But now the burden's fallen"— The voice rose full and strong ; I with b'uafc I could hear it now, That old majestic song. I see the firelight flicker About your steadfast face, And wonder which is quicker In that dear poet's race. I thiuk of all the stories We told of good and true ; Of all a hero's glories, And what one life could do. The old mysteriouß whispering, ..The voices sweet and strong. That tpoke of many mysteries After the hours of song, Have rushed upon me, winding Their fancies in my brain, Until 'bis easy finding The old strong hopes again.

— Alich.