THE PAST.
The hour is growing late, The minutes flee too fast; O that the hand of Fate Could gather from the vast Aby&3 of fallen years, Dead worlds that sleep in vain, Old ijmiles that shone thro' tears, And brighten Life's cold lane.
The stars are shining fair ; But brighter stars were mino. Their eyes that laughed at caie, No more peep thro' the pine. I crave that worldi of yore; And if its dxearns were vain (1 ask for nothing more), I'll dream them o'er again. The shadows come and go, Between them sunlight falls; But O, the sleeping past Ever unto me calls. I hear its voice all day; And in the sombre night Time's little children play In their old realm ol light.
— J. Y. B.
January 28, 1904,
Permanent link to this item
https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/OW19040203.2.167
Bibliographic details
Otago Witness, Issue 2603, 3 February 1904, Page 59
Word Count
133THE PAST. Otago Witness, Issue 2603, 3 February 1904, Page 59
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