LIFE’S TWILIGHT,

Gisborne Times, Volume XXV, Issue 2218, 23 October 1907, Page 5 (Supplement)

LIFE’S TWILIGHT,

By Roderick - Quinn in tlie Sydney “Mail.”)

Heart of my heart! Sit close besido me, dear, It is the end of day and night is

near; The birds have sought their nests, tlie bees their hives, And twilight dims tlio landscape of our lives.

How good a tiling is peace 1 How . fair a gift and sweet Is rest, deep rest and sleep for weary hands and feet! Tlie land lies all subdued in patient evening light, Not grieving for the noon nor fearful of the night.

Dear hair of silver grey that once was shining gold— Not rich with too much light, hut coiling fold on fold Above a brow of snow and throat as white as milk — \ stroke you once again, and still the tress is silk.

Dear Eyes, I did not think that such, a shade of blue, So deep and all-intense and shadowed through and through, Could hide the stress of time. —(the wear and tear of years, Tbe bitterness of grief, the salt of many tears.

For many tears tliey knew, but never shame or guile; And God who made them weep, He also made them smile — Dear Eyes, so filled with truth, so human and divine, Look up, look up again, and anix your strength with mine.

The grey trees melt in dream: the last light fades afar, And pulsing ray on ray shines out a single star. The grey trees dim and tall ... I Ah, sweetheart of old times, I hear the bells of love renew their morning chimes.

You rode. . .Your Cloak Was lied. . . it fluttered on the breeze A single vivid stain among the sombre trees; And when wo met and talked your speech came shy and slow! Ah, wife, it does not seem so many years ago. *

And yet, beyond the ridgo where yonder gum-trees stand, Our children reap and sow, and till tlio land; Tliey smile, and blush, and sigh, and ' love and go tlieir way, And wo, who loved of old, love now, and love for aye.

For, when tho sad hour comes of passing life and breath, God shall not part two souls so wov’n in one by death; Be sure He loves too much a love so fair as ours; ’Tis weeds, not flowers. Ho slays— He loves to save tho flowers.

So wife, be comforted, and shed no •tear Because the day is done and night is near: The birds have sought their nest, the bees tlieir hives; Aiul twilight dims the landscape of our lives.