IN THE ORCHARD.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume VI, Issue 37, 13 September 1890, Page 3

IN THE ORCHARD.

OUT from the city’s din and from the sound of restless feet, Hurrying through all the busy dusty afternoon, I wander into quiet lanes, Where meadows fresh and green lie all around me, And orchards slope away, White with the promise and fulfilment of the spring : And as my eyes drink in the beauty, And my soul the peace, There steppe th from the shadow of the trees, A maiden fair and young— Clad all in white is she ; All about her the faint, sweet odouis of the spring, In her eyes the hope of happy summer days to come, And in her heart, I know, faith in both man and God. ‘ Who art thou and whence came ami whither goest ? I know thee not and yet it seems to me That there is somewhat familiar in thy look ?’ Her eyes hold mine, but her sweet lips are dumb ; And as I gaze at her, my heart full of wonder and of curious questioning, The last rays of the sinking sun slip from her hair, And the rising mist vails her with gray, Then, grown denser, hides her from my sight; Then 1, with pleading hands outstretched, Cry out : ‘ Oh, come again ’. Oh, speak f But my straining eyes see through the mist Only the whiteness of the drooping apple bough. Out from the evening stillness all around, Save for the drone and hum of gnats, And sleepy twitter of the birds, There comes no sound, Though 1 wait long, my face between my hands, The shadows and the mist cieeping around me. The air grows chill, and, rising up, I turn me toward the city’s streets again, Back to its dust and noise, its culture ami its creeds, Its pleasures and its sins and unbeliefs, Shuddering as I go, because 1 know That I have looked upon a ghost, Myself that was.