OLD STORIES.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume VIII, Issue 27, 4 July 1891, Page 134

OLD STORIES.

BY KATHARINE 11. TERRY

Year by year, and over and over, Snowdrifts vanish in drifts of clover ; Blasts that howl with a chill benumbing, Lull themselves with the bees’ low humming — Brown-winged bees, that sample each cup By blossoming billows lifted up.

Year by year round each fireside lingers Fickle Fate, with her busy fingers Weaving a thread of care or sorrow That’s interlaced with a smile to-morrow ; Turning her wheel with a careless grace, While each heart keeps time in its shuttle-race.

Storms are chased by the sunniest weather, Since earth began they have frolicked together ; Lives obscure, or crowned with glory, Are only leaves from an olden story. Nothing is new in this busy world As over the realms of space we’re whirled.

But the restless moments are never weary Of telling their tales, be they glad or dreary ; Now and then with a laugh we listen, Then under our lashes a tear will glisten. Strange old world ! Are you aught but good In your darkest moods, if we understood !