TEN YEARS AGO.

Waikato Times, Volume XXVI, Issue 2134, 13 March 1886, Page 1 (Supplement)

TEN YEARS AGO.

—Marcus Clark.

Dost thou remember the old garden, where We used to steal, To build our silly castles in the air, My pale Lucille ? I was thy knight: and thou my love and queen, No shame didst know — For had we not played babies on the gieen— Ten years ago ? We part, we meet. Thou statelier grown, and cold, I gaunt and grey. For thou art rich, and I —in sorrows old Since childhood's day. " Lucille ! at last my love !" Your pale cheek glows. . "l)id you not know My husbaud, sir; we met—where was it, James ? Ten years ago!"' Well —mine the fault was if," I did not please. You judged the best. You feared for poverty and longed for ease, Comfoit, and rest. His hoises stepped as high, your diamonds made As brave a show, For all he won them in the tallow trade, Ten years asro. Yet that white brow, inethinkfe, ia less •3rene Than in that time When bright birds sang, and trees and fields were green. In youth's fair prime : When all the world smiled rosy at our fuet In fancy's glow. Ah me! What wondrous dreams we dreamt, my sweet, Ten years ago. Now you are sadly learned, I am told Five tongues you speak ; You sing, compose —what leaf is that you fold? Plato in Greek ! I see—you study at all times—you fret At procress slow — You had not needed Greek, dear, had we met Ten years ago. Nay, never blush, Lucille. I am not base To him or you. From thy soul's cell no love must his displace, Thy whole life through. Hik safeguard and thy solace lies in this— Is it not so ?—? — His constant kindness since the bridal kiss Ten years ago. We meet. We part. If life's bright best be lost; Much still remains; Perhaps a higher Heaven for him, the cost Paid with thy pains. Good-bye, my dear, and if this tale you tell, These verses show; Say only "This man fought a hard fight well, Ten years ago." And ever fights ! For if, as churchmen say In skies above Soul mates with soul, as ray melts into ray And Hesmn is Love. He will be there, and—if he still loves thee— Mutt never know That thou on earth hadst e'er a thought for me Ten years ago.

When a village schoolmaster entered his temple of learning one morning, he read on the blackboard the following touching legend — "Our teacher is a donkey." The pupils expected there would be a combined cyclone and earthquake ; but the philosophic pedagogue ■contented himself with adding the word " driver " to the legend, and opened the *chool as usual.