A Dream of Death.

Manawatu Standard, Volume IX, Issue 108, 11 April 1885, Page 4

A Dream of Death.

(original poetry.) I heard them speak m whispers As they thonght I dying lay ; Each pulse, how feebly it beat ? So near I'd passed away. Sometimes I knew loved voices, Bnt only for a while, For I roamed m fancy far away, Where brighter sunshines smile I seemed to be again a child, And on my native shore Sat weaving wreaths of hawthorn wild, As m the days of yore. And then on moss-grown gravestones, 'Neifch the vineclad chancel grey, I read the names so long ago, Of kindred passed away. And the chiming of the village bells From the tower so grey and high, Fell sweetly on my listening ear, As m long years gone by. A change; and suddenly I see A river dark and wide, > And many voices silvery sweet Call from the other side. J trembling stand upon the brink, Hear those sad wild breakers roar, But fear 'neath the dark waves to sink, Ere I could reaoh the shore ! Come, come away dear sister, come, "Bang out that glittering band ; We all have cro&scd these surges wild Ere on this pearly strand. No wail of sorrow lingereth here, No soul is ever sad ; Gome sister, haste, no longer stay ! Come join us and be glad ! Two grand and widely open gates On brilliant pillars hung ; They seemed to glow with rainbow j tints, Beneath a cloudless sun. With wondering eyes I saw beyond Those gates, more bright than gold, Strange iiowe'rs of various gorgeous hues, And beauties yet untold. But stranger, still methought I saw Large birds with plumage white ; They hovered round tall droopiug trees With leaves like silver bright. They warbled notes so beautiful, And I thonght they seemed'to say, Like the band upon the river's brink, Oh, haste thee, come away ! Then between two mounds like emerald, . Where the tall white lillies grow The waters of a streamlet played,. With manners strangely low. And from its Wos-om seemed to come, Re-echoing sweet and clear, — " Seek this out bright celestial home, No sorrow lingereth here*" And groups of gladsome children there, By crystal fountains played, And thousands clad m spotless robes Through lovely gardens strayed. Then the sweet sounds echoed nearer, And again I heard them say, — "In this land place dwelleth ever, Haste thee, sister, come away." One plunge beneath the noi'sesome tide, One gasp, then hushed the breath, But again to sorrow 1 awake, 'Tis but a dream of death. Emma Martin, Danevirke.