REUNION.
Cheviot Hills. What! Have I lost my hold on song. Or song its hold on me. That I should wander with this throng Where boyhood’s brightest gems belong Untouched by r minstrelsy? Among the flowers and lawns and trees I wander as of old, When that great hand expressed through these y 'llis grip of life’s sweet harmonies As from a lyre of gold. The staves he chose were rhythm’s best, Selected for each part. And I recall it richly drest When every flower and hedge confest The magic of his art His harp remains, but. oh ! the strings Have slackened down the years. Till scarce a cord his music sings. Whilst to my lids a moisture dings That could be mist of tears. A laughing boy. I loved his hand That kindly prest head; Could it now come to my command I’d strike to life with magic wand His keynote long since dead. The pheasants would return to crow. The quail come back to call. The grey duck skim the field below, Pukeko wander to and fro With safetv for them all. T E. L. ROBERTS.
Permanent link to this item
https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/TS19341208.2.76
Bibliographic details
Star (Christchurch), Volume LXVI, Issue 20483, 8 December 1934, Page 14
Word Count
188REUNION. Star (Christchurch), Volume LXVI, Issue 20483, 8 December 1934, Page 14
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