POETRY.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 1834, 8 January 1880, Page 3

POETRY.

MISSING; Missing, no more ; a dumb, dead wall Of silence and darkness stands Between us and they who left us here, In the golden morning of the year, With hope and promise and parting cheer, Wet eyes and waving hands.

Never omen told our hearts How fate lurked, grim and dark ; Fresh and sweet smiled the April day. And the treacherous waves in sunlight lay, Kissing the sands of the sheltering bay, ■ And laughing around the bark.J

Like molten silver shone her sails, As she glided from our gaze ; And we turned us back to our homes again, To let custom grow o'er the yearning pain, And to count by the hearth—ah, labor vain 1— The lonely lingering days. J

Never a letter from loving hands, Never a message came ; We knew long since should the port be won : We know what the fierce north gales had done ; And slowly crept over every one A terror we would not name,

Ah me ! those weary mornings, When out on the great pier-bfiad We strained our sight o'er the tossing seas, And studied each change in the fitful breeze, And strove to answer, in tones of ease, Light question coldly said. Ah I me, those weary midnights, Hearing the breakers roar; Starting from dreams of storm and death, With beating pulses and catching breath. To bear the white surf •• call " beneath, Along the hollow shore. Never a flash down the wires, Never a word from the Bast, From the port she sailed for—how long ago 1 Why, even a spar one would weep to know, Tossed on the wild waves' ebb and flow, Were something real at last. Missing, missing, and silence, The great tides iise and fall; The sea lies dimpling out in the light. Or danceß, all living, gleaming white; Day follows day, night rolls on night; Missing, and that is all. The bark crossed out in the log-book, The names dropped out of the prayers; In many a household a vacant place; In many a life a vanished grace. We know our caßt in the long life race. But only God knows theirs. .—"Tinsley's Magazine." THE BEST COW IN PBBIL. Old farmer B. is a stingy man. . He keeps all he gets and he gets all he can ; By all his friends he is said to be As tight as the bark on a young birch tree. He goes to church and rents a pew, But the dimes he gives the Lord are few; If he goes to heaven with the good and great, He will be let in through the smallest gate.

Now farmer 8., besides dragging the ploughs, Keeps a number of very fine calves and cows; He makes no butter, but sends by express The milk to the city's thirstinees.

" What do city folks know about milk ? They are better judges of cloth and silk; Not a man who buys, I'll vow, can tell If I water it not, or water it well If they do not know, then where's the sin 1 I'll put the water sparkling in." Thus talked to himself old farmer 8,, How mean he is, old and young can see.

One night it was dark, oh, fearfully dark I The watch dog never came out to bark; Old farmer B. in his bed did snore, When rap, rap, rap, nearly shattered the door, And a voice cried out with hasty breath, " Your best cow, neighbour, is choking to

death. Clipping off the end of a rousing snore, Farmer B. bounded out on the bedroom floor, And the midnight voice was heard no more. He pulled on his pants, he knew not how, For his thoughts were all on his choking

cow ; He flew to the yard like a frightened deer, For his stingy soul was filled with fear, Looking around by the lantern's light, He found that his cows were there all right,

" ril give a dime," said farmer B, " To know who played this trick on me ; May the hand be stiff and the knucles sore That knocked to-cight on my farm-house door." With a. scowl on his face and a shaking head, Farmer B. again sought his nice warm bed ; No good thoughts came—they were all overpowered, The little good nature he had was soured.

When he went to water his milk next day, The midnight voice seemed to say, As he pumped with panting breath, " Your best cow neighbor is choking to

death," The meaning of this he soon found out, For a stone was driven in the old pump s

spout. Old farmer 8., when he drives to town, Now meets his neighbors with savage frown; They smile and ask as they kindly bow, " How getteth along the best cow now ? "