MARTINIQUE; THE LATE DISASTER.

Otago Witness, Issue 2516, 4 June 1902, Page 59

MARTINIQUE; THE LATE DISASTER.

Ail island home of peaceful rest, Where waves surround America's shore, To gaze on mountain's misty crest, And think of happy days in store. As bees among the summer flowers You pass them by in sunny hours, So calm m distant Martinique. But, hark! 'Mid rush of daily toil, With burning lava surging rotmd, The homes of people to enfold, And raging fire m command, The sudden warning forth to call So many in their doom to fall, In ruins shattered Martinique. No pattei of the baby feet Who trod in childhood's happy way, No sound is heard m busy street, And voices silent in the fray. The waves do roll, their surges moan, As white spray dash in tcan to mourn, Dim larkness shading Martinique. We who from Zealandia's shore Our hearts in pitying love console, And chords of sympathy to the core W e feel for weary, saddened souls O r suffering ones in foreign land, Where burning craters foaming stand: Compassion soirs o'er Martinique. A nameless grave on burning p'.uvs, No golden letters to remind The sweetness looked of many gains And festive board to be enshrined. A silent grave, no flowers to weep, A morn in heaven, eternal sleep On sorrow-stricken Martinique. In warning now we ready stand, We know not what a day may bring, When bugle calls from Glory land To soar on wings the angels sing, A voice divinely ssnt to all, Be ready, urgent to the call. Eternity's shore is Martinique. —Annie Mackenzie. Tapanui. May, X 902..