LOVE'S BOOK.
It is done—the romance is overNo blessing hath Fortune to semi, For Cupid has slammed down the cover And written the end. Quite rhort is the tale he has written, Sweet, short as the text for a tomb, Of love, and a youth that was smitten, I'hen ashes and gloom. I thought it might be a long story, A serial never to stop ; I thought he was writing for glory. And not for the shop. But no ; he just scratched off a lyric That some feeble poet might sing (It almost would pass for a pyrrhic), A little, short thing. I thought a strong chain Love was weaving To stretch to eternity’s brink ; But the shackles were very deceiving, Comoposed of one link. Do all dreams turn out just as hollow ? Must I go through life as a sage ? Alas ! in Love’s book must there follow Blank page after page? Or else was this little love poem, Which took but a day to compose, Designed as a sort of a proem, The rest to be prose ? What hap if this chain that has paited As prose or as poetry rank. So long as the book Cupid started Be not left a blank ?
Permanent link to this item
https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/periodicals/NZGRAP18931028.2.10
Bibliographic details
New Zealand Graphic, Volume XI, Issue 43, 28 October 1893, Page 341
Word Count
204LOVE'S BOOK. New Zealand Graphic, Volume XI, Issue 43, 28 October 1893, Page 341
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Acknowledgements
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