Original Poetry.

Hawke's Bay Times, Volume IX, Issue 443, 3 January 1867, Page 1 (Supplement)

Original Poetry.

THE BOSS 0‘ DGuNB. A Ss“ a a OMB gentle maMs of hlgia dsgsee Improve their cnanns by art; Asa all- sac-h sr=~ of fo-o. and fsc-e - Bears likeness to the heart. i«” «wk »M». Of DObk VO 'fs ne’er will meet a maid sae sweet AJi 6HO «ua ttwolia in uuuuo. tsue : s moucol -as tUo vtutst, as thrifty as ibe bee; . JAB’s guileiHKH is Uiß iiuie Uiihs, Teat gambol on the lea. Tbs rao aUo Illy blended saft, TTpos her cheeks are seen, WhUo brighter far then ’caper star Her fascinating een. Her bosom’s white as driven maw. Or modest- daffodil. But, stainless though her bosom be. Her heart is purer still. I lore to list the shepherd’s pipe, Amang the lonely hills; The wind that sighs the trees amang, And dreamy murmuring rills. The tinkling bell of Tillage church, Which hides amcogst the trees; The herd-boy’s song that steals along From where he sits at ease. But mair than these I love to hear. To me the sweetest soun’. The music of my Hose’s voice. The fairest dower in Doune. O’ maidens fair I’re mony seen In country and in town; But nano sae sweet as to compete WT her—the Bose o’ Doune. 0. M. H.