GONE AWAY.

Observer, Volume 7, Issue 237, 28 March 1885, Page 10

GONE AWAY.

(Written for the Observer.) O, ruthless Death, what hast thou done ?

Robbed me of her I held most dear ! Why hast thou left me thus alone,

To pine and mourn and languish here ? Why stop the beating or that heart

That beat so high, so true for me ? My life is drear from her apart — I may thy second victim be.

Her brow now cold was beauty's throne —

Her eyes now closed were love's sweet shrine. Alas I her spirit far has flown,

But still I own her remains mines ; Around her tomb I love to roam, Beneath the Cypress to retire ; I am myself a living tomb, The smoke of life without its fire.

They say her loss I should not mourn, But, does the dove forget its mate ? Can man's love vacant temple scora j Or, can he turn his love to hate ? The fountain of my life is dry, My heart is withered to its core, It's natural that I should sigh, My food of joy exists no more.

The world so beautiful before, Has lost its witching, charms for me — Her soothing voice I hear no more ; No more her radiant smile I see, All nature seems with mourning hung. The skylark chants a doleful lay, My voice is lost, my harp unstrung, I turn with throbbing heart away.

But hope reveals a brighter clime ; The spirits there released from clay, Expanded soar to heights sublime ; Revealed to Grod their homage pay, From passion cleansed, from sin set free, Throughout a long eternity. Sweet spirit, may I dwell with thee, Embalmed in iin mortality.

Pakeha, Paparoa