JE VIVE CONTENT.
I aaag of love when life was ycung And bright as blossom on the tree, •Nor cared for Cynic's frown or smile ; No other theme had charms for me. And tove was mme — its promise fake. It was a dream, and £ awoke, And almost hushed for aye my strains— My hf art was crushed— nay, well-nigh broke. When Time had brought its healing balm, I tried once more a tender strain ; My lyre was mute, my heait was cold, I could noi sing of love again. My votive offeringa next I brought And laid at Mammon's gilded shrine, But, void of the enthusiast's, tire, He could cot chain a heart like min«-, I could not mi"eie with the throng Who jostle rtaily in the race For place and power— vain, soidid herd ! With such I never could have place. Then knelt I for the glittering wreath ' The Muse awards to poesy. • Lonly won her passing smile, . Her laurel wreath was not for me. Love, Mammon, JFame eaclrhad its hour, And Time speeds by on rapid wisg, The lights which lured can lure no more, J-e vive content I smile and sing. —Rose Ellen Easton. Armidale, N.S.W., 1898.
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/OW18980414.2.126
Bibliographic details
Otago Witness, Issue 2302, 14 April 1898, Page 41
Word Count
200JE VIVE CONTENT. Otago Witness, Issue 2302, 14 April 1898, Page 41
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