Select Poetry.

Hawke's Bay Times, Volume IX, Issue 478, 23 May 1867, Page 3

Select Poetry.

THE MIDNIGHT LAMP. Prom -window curtainless and high. There gleamed a sickly, yellow light; On other casements darkness fell, ~ And every morning, when the ntrc-et Woke to the carman's cheery shout, Or the quick tread of hurrying feet, The little yellow light went out. Yet ’twas not. time had made him so; Bather, each year that o’er him ran Had left him a decade of woe. He lived a mouth in every night— A month of anguish and despair; While something on his brow did write A look that youth should never wear. He often left the dismal house, And walked away, with downcast eyes, As though he feared to see a curse ■Writ on the sunny summer skies. Yet stern and grave as he appeared. The little children in the street Smiled in his lace, and never feared To sport and gambol at his feet. Yet when those cherub looks were raised, Half shyly, dashing fun and play, Scarcely upon their smiles he gazed, Hut sighed, and turned hi# face away ; As though he feared lest childhood’s eye Should chance to penetrate the veil Of a dark story, and descry The dismal secret of his talc. But on one gusty winter eve. When wind was high, and snow was deep, Just such a night as makes one grieve For those who have no home to keep—--1 drew aside my eurlaiu’s fold. Half shuddering in the frosty air. The stars were shining, clear and cold. But that dim lamp—it was not there ; And fears within my spirit stirred, 1 felt my brow grow cold and white, As though a ghostly voice I heard Upon the silence'of the mght. I sought my bed—sleep closed mine eyes— X woke in fear—ray brow was damp— I know not what 1 dreamed, but 1 Had dreamed about that little lamp 1 I rose, and from my window saw The house of that mysterious light; Dull was the morning, dim and raw, Soiling the snow so pure last night. People were gathered in the street, In hushed, mysterious tones t’uev spoke, Then watchmen came, with heavy feet, And, passing swiftly, mid the folk, Entered the house, and in its gloom] They found they needs must have a light, I saw them pass from room to room To that which once was lit by night, And long and long they lingered there (Hut what thev found I could not say) ; Then out they came with looks of care,’ And seat the peoide all away.

What had they found ?—they found him dead. That lonely watc.her in the night, Lying alone upon hi# lied. And near him hi# extinguished light. But though hi# face whs dark and lean, It wore no more its loot of cure, A emilc was o'er it» sorrow seen The cold hand held a look of hair A single look of go'den hair— Lou:;, silken, curie l, a# women’# are • Its owner—wa# she faUe as fair f Or vit she dead, or gone afar ? We can hit gue-s that shining tress Was some sweet relic of the past— A comfort or a bitterness That soothed, or stung him to the last.

And that whs all that man could leant. But yet it gave me sudden pain To know that lamp would never burn On that high window-sill again ; And from my memory ne’er will go The t:.mu-bed hearse, the rnstv pali The gaping crowd, and all the woe Of that uufollowed funeral. I. Fyvir,