THE LAST ACT.

Taranaki Herald, Volume XLIX, Issue 11635, 16 March 1901, Page 1 (Supplement)

THE LAST ACT.

BY P. O.

A wretched farce is our life at best, A weariness under the son ; I am sick of the part I have to plar, And I would that it were done. I would that all the smiles and sighs Of it 3 mimic scenes could end ; That we could dee the curtain fall On the last poor act, my friend I Thin, faded hair, a beard of snow, A thoughtful, farrowed brow ; And this is all the world can see When it looks upon yon now. But I cannot hide myself from you, Be the semblance e'er so good ; For under it all and through it all You would know the womanhood. And yon cannot make me doubt your trnth, For all your strange disguise ; For the soul is drawn tnrongn your tender voice, And the heart through the loving eyes. And I see the smile of the tender lip, 'Neath the manly fringe of jet, That won my heart when I had a heart And that holds and keeps it jet. Ah ! how shall we act this wretched part Till its weary, weary dose ? For oar souls are yoang, we are lovers yet, For all oar sham? and shows ! Let us go and lay onr masks aside In that cool aud green retreat That is softly curtained from the world By the daisies fair and sweet. And far away from this weary iife In the light of lore's white throne, We shall see, at last, as we are seen, * And know as we are known I