Thank you for correcting the text in this article. Your corrections improve Papers Past searches for everyone. See the latest corrections.

This article contains searchable text which was automatically generated and may contain errors. Join the community and correct any errors you spot to help us improve Papers Past.

Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image

POETRY.

THE THBEE LITTLE CHAIRS. They sat alone by the bright wood fire, The grey-haired dame and the aged sire, Dreaming of the days gone by ; The tear drops fell on each wrinkled cheek, They both had thoughts they could not speak, And each heart uttered a sigh.

For their sad and tearful eyes descried Three little chairs placed side by side Against the sitting-room wail. Old-fashioned enough as there they stood, Their seats of flag and their frames o! wood, With their backs so straight and tall.

Then the sire shook his silvery head, And, with trembling voice, he gently said, " Mother, those empty chairs ! They bring us such sad thoughts to-night We'll put them for ever out of sight In the small, dark room upstairs."

But she answered, " Father, no ; not yet; For I look at them and I forget That the children are away; The hoys came back, and our Mary, too, With the apron on of checkered blue, And sit there every day.

Johnny still whittles a ship's tall masts, And Willie his leaden bullets casts, While Mary her patchwork sews; At evening the three childish prayers Go up to God from these little chairs So softly that no one knows. Johnny comes back from the billow deep ; Willie wakes from the battlefield sleep To say " good night" to rue ; Mary's a wife and mother no more, But a tired child whose playtime's o'er, And comes to rest at my knee.

So let them stand there, though empty now. And every time when alone we bow At the Father's throne to pray, We'll ask to meet the children above In our Saviour's home of rest and love, Where no child goeth away."

WHEN OUE SHIP COMES IN.

In a cottage that stood 'on the wild sea

shore A little one sat 'neath the vine-wreathed door, Shadowed and sad was that childish face, On the soft, pink cheek shone the teardrop's trace; For the childish toy—best loved by all— The poor little waxen-faced blue-eyed doll Was broken; smile not at the childish

pain. Nor the tears that wore dropping like silver rain.

But the gentle mother, with loving tone, Said, bending down by the little one, And kissing the mouth and dimpled chin, " Don't cry, iny love; when, our ship comes in We will get a new dolly, oh, far more fair. With brighter eyes and with softer hair; Now dry your tears, for 'twill surely be When our ship comes in from the far, wide sea."

Oh, that ship to come ! and how oft before Had the bright eyes watched from the cottage door, As with eager gaze they were watching

now For the gloaming sail and the rushing

prow; But oft she ran to her mother's side, Her sweet blue eyes with the gladness wido, As she pictured the wonderful pleasure to

be When our ship camo in from the distant sea.

The dearest gift and the best of all For her little heart was the darling doll; But oh! there were treasures, unknown, untold. All safely stowed in the precious hold; And standing thus with her beaming eyes, The tears all gone and her childish sighs, She turned the sweet face with its sniiies

to mo, And said, " Have you any ships at sea ?"

Child! you did not know the wild throb of

pam Those light words sent through my heart

and brain. Ah ! we all have ships on the stormy sea. Ah! weary watchers for them are we; Andiwhen the tempest and clouds are rife— When storms sweep over the sea of life, With tearful eyes, by tho sounding shore. We watched for them —we have watched

before; But all who weary and trembling wait For the coming ships with their precious freight, 'Tis known, O Father, to none but Thee, If they safely arrive or be lost at sea.

red-hot, and the places where the wire I touches the glass (the glass can be turned round by hand) become heated, so that by sudden cooling, or the contact with a humid body, a severance of the glass takes place. In order to remove the inequalities on the sections which have been thus obtained, the glass pieces are placed on an apparatus, in which the section is expose 1 to the flame of a chalumoan, the glass piece being mode to revolve in order that all the parts are touched by the flame. The glass is then taken to a heating furnace in order to prevent the heated parts becoming broken by too quick cooling. The glass is then removed to a room where it is left to cool.

Permanent link to this item

https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/GLOBE18821201.2.23

Bibliographic details

Globe, Volume XXIV, Issue 2699, 1 December 1882, Page 4

Word Count
776

POETRY. Globe, Volume XXIV, Issue 2699, 1 December 1882, Page 4

POETRY. Globe, Volume XXIV, Issue 2699, 1 December 1882, Page 4

Help

Log in or create a Papers Past website account

Use your Papers Past website account to correct newspaper text.

By creating and using this account you agree to our terms of use.

Log in with RealMe®

If you’ve used a RealMe login somewhere else, you can use it here too. If you don’t already have a username and password, just click Log in and you can choose to create one.


Log in again to continue your work

Your session has expired.

Log in again with RealMe®


Alert