ORIGINAL POETRY.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XVII, Issue XXII, 28 November 1896, Page 108

ORIGINAL POETRY.

THE FEVER OF LIFE Fever and fret, worry and care, Shattered, like foam on a wind-swept sea. Driven here, or drifting there, Hurried through time to eternity. Tired of the burden of to-day, Dreading the stress of to-morrow’s strife, Finding our idol’s feet of clay Thrust us to death, not lead to life. Bowing low to the Golden Calf, Casting our tribute at Mammon’s shrine, Deeming the worlding's witless laugh, More cogent than the voice Divine. Fighting, like fiends, for the foremost place, Pushing the weakest to the wall. Caring not, if we win the race, How others may sink or fall. Bartering souls for dollars and dimes. Selling our daughters to legal shame, Counting it least of a woman's crimes To sacrifice love for a gilded name. Dulling our ears to the toiler’smoans, The cry of the children for lack of bread : Giving them hovels in place of homes. And contract-coffins to bury their dead. Grovelling in dust to wealth and rank. Saving our sneers for the churlish clod, The drivelling dreamer, charlatan, crank, Who prates of brotherhood, duty, God. Fever and fret, worry and care, Earthward grubbing like purblind moles, Till satiety palls, and we cry in despair, ' We have pampered our bodies, but starved our souls.’ W. Bki.wobthy. Devon port.