Select Poetry.

Hawke's Bay Times, Volume 15, Issue 753, 17 January 1870, Page 4

Select Poetry.

§i»g •«?* sin s on ' wi * I i r A ture ' s musi £ »wn*swfc' Of bird, and brook, and flower! Springtime had scarcely fled ere summer found thee IVlore beautiful each hour. y §mS P n • % bri S llt £y- e9 > aU & aused to weeping, lipid music of jfcheir own; 'Though yejfc no human influence o'er thee sweep, ittg, Jltth ppwer to wake its tone. gmilepn, smile on.! Why shouldst tiiou think the brightness Will fade front out J>he sky ? That hearts like thine—bounding for very lightness—- 1 s7lll sadden by-ani-by ? Enough fpr thee to watch the streamlet flowing, And pluck the yiolets blue; To see the crimson rays of sunset glowing, And paint the rose's hue, fVeep on, weep on! A treacherous light is gleaming Athwart the distant sky; Thy song is hushed, thy smiles are only seeming, Eaph sweet breath-is a sigh; And thou hast learned the luxury of weeping In silence and alone, Since skilful fingers o'er thy heart-strings sweeping found power to wake their tone. Pream on, dream on! Yet why b e less true-hearted. Less joyous than of yore ? Jlath all tne sunlight from thy heaven departed, And will it- come no more ? Thy songs that erst were like the lark's upsoaring, Say, what capricious fay Jlath quenched the rapture of their wild outpouring, And chased thy smiles away ? Love on, love on ! Thy maiden troth is plighted, And on the sunny sea A fairy bark is lauuehed with true love freighted, It ride.th gallantly. And thpu hast laid thy heart's untold devotion Low at thy lover's shrine; And he hath'sworn his soul knows no emotion That is not wholly thine. )Vatch on, watch on! Swiftly hath time passed o'er tliee Since that betrothal eve; And white-robed angel forms have gone before thee. Their starrcrowns tp receive. Yes, one by one thy gems huye gained their setting In Jesu's diadem, And thy torn heart hath bled, erewhile forgetting Earth was no place for them. Pray pn, pray on! A silence still and holy .Reigns 'mid the cypress trees; A deep unbroken hush, and thou so lowly Upon thy bended knees Art striving for the strength to conquer sorrow— Ah ! let it have its way; Thy faith shall hail a brighter dawn to-morrow, Though grief sees but to-day ! Sleep on, sleep on ! and dreamless be thy slumbers, And hushed thy spirit's pain; Sleep on, until the hour when countless numbers Shall wake tp life again! Then tl)pu shalt loose the cypress-wreath of sorrow From off that weary brow, And welcome iu the heavenly to-morrow— A ransomed spirit thou!