THE MAGICAL ISLE IN THE RIVER OF TIME.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume II, Issue 91, 23 January 1875, Page 13

THE MAGICAL ISLE IN THE RIVER OF TIME.

There's a magical isle in the river of Time, Where softest of zephyrs are straying, And the air is as sweet as a musical chime. Or the exquisite breath of a tropical clime When June with the roses is staying. 'Tis there Memory dwells with her pale golden hue, And music for ever is flowing ; While the low murmured tones, which come trembling through, Sadly trouble the heart, and yet sweeten it, too, As south winds o'er waters when blowing.} There are shadowy halls in this fairy-like isle, Where pictures of beauty are gleaming ; Yet the light of their eyes, and their sunny smile, Only flash round their hearts in a wildering wile, And leave us, to know 'tis but dreaming. And the name of the isle is " The Beautif ul Past," And we bury our treasures there ! There are beings of beauty, too lovely to last : There are bosoms of snow with the dust o'er them cast ! There are tresses and ringlets of hair. There are fragments of song only Memory sings, And the words of a dear Mother's prayer ;* There's a harp long unswept, and a lute without strings, There are flowers all withered, and letters and rings, Hallowed tokens which Love used to wear. E'en the dead, the bright, beautiful dead there arise, With their soft flowing ringlets of gold ; Though their voices are hushed, and o'er their sweet eyes The unbroken signet of silence now lies, They are with us again as of old. In the stillness of night hands are beckoning us there, And with joy, that is almost a pain, They delight to turn back, and in wandering there. Through the shadowy walls of this island so fair, We behold our lost treasures again ! Oh ! this beautiful isle, with its phantom-like show, Is a vista unfadingly bright, And the river of Time, in its turbulent flow, Is oft soothed by the voices we heard long ago, When the years were a dream of delight.

— ' N. O. Morning Star.'