POETRY.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 2092, 6 November 1880, Page 3

POETRY.

TIEED. By Thobfe Taiojot. Why should I shrink from it, tell me ? Why should I wish to stay ? In all that ever befell me, Through the course of my life's brief day, Is there aught that should set me grieving That the end should be so nigh ? Ab, no ! of life's web and weaving I am tired enough to die. I know that the earth is lovely, And glad with all gladsome sights, That the vast blue dome above m?, With its greater and lesser lights, Is a splendid eternal glory For all mortal eyes to see : But the Shadow of Death lies o'er me, And what is it all to mo P I have had my time with the flowers, I have had my share of the light j G-lad moments and passionate hours, Great joys of the day and night j The madness of wine and revel, And the calmer, quieter life Of the path tbat is straight and level And loads from all sin and strife. I have lived through my goodly season, I have suffered my share of pain ; In the world's whirl of labour and reason I have taken my loss or gain ; And my very soul is aweary Of the emptiness of it all, And there Beemeth now naught so dreary Aa the things that oould once enthrall. My years are not many in number, My days in the land not long ; But oh ! when a ohild would slumber, All tired of its day's sweet song, Do you bid it still laugh and waken Because of its day's short length P Nay! the measure of life must be takon Not from life's space, but life's strength. And mine is worn out—and gladly I look to the time of rest; To many Death cometh sadly, To me he is weloome guest; Of the feverish joys that harry Man's manifold moments here, There is none that tempts me to tarry, None worthy a smile or tear. And when so near to the portal That leadeth to dust and peace; Or—if souls be immortal— To the land where pain shall cease, Is it well to look baok desiring To travel old ground again ; Old ground so uneven and tiring, And measured with milestones of pain. No—let the Great Pall close round me; And I stretch out my tired limbs— bo, — Of all the world-tieß that bound me I am weary, so let me go ; Let mo find an eternal quiet While others still laugh and weep ; Away from earth's revel and riot, Give me endless, dreamless sleep.