Select Poetry.

Hawke's Bay Times, Volume 18, Issue 1140, 7 October 1871, Page 2

Select Poetry.

THE THREE lITTLE CHAIRS. They sat alone by the bright wood fire, The grey-haired dame and the aged sire, Dreaming of days gone by ; The tear-drops fell on each wrinkled cheek, They both had thoughts they could not speak, And each hearc uttered a sigh,— For their sad and tearful eyes descried Three little chairs placed side by side Against the silting room wall; Old-fashioue,d enough as there they stood, Their seats of flag and their frames of wood, With their backs so high and tall. Then the sire shook his silvery head, And with trembling voice he gently said: Mother, these empty chairs! They bring us such sad thoughts to-night We'll put them for ever out of sight, Iu 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 boys come back, and our Mary, too, Witji her apron on, of checkered blue, And sit here every day. Johnny comes back from the billows deep, Willie wakes from his battle-field sleep, To say good night to me ; Mary's a wife and mother no more, But a tired child whose playtime is 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, la our Saviour's home of rest aud love, Where no child goeth away."