THE VERANDAH.

New Zealander, Volume 7, Issue 549, 19 July 1851, Page 4

THE VERANDAH.

To ev'ry lowly cottage made, Shading the open door, In many a graceful guise 'tis seen To cast its shadow o'er. A place of light, and mirth it is, Where children love to play, Where maidens hide them from the sun All the long summer day, Roses and flowers of ev'ry hue Oft'times entwine it round, And from it's rustic canopy Will lutes, and voices sound. It suits our sunny southern sky, Its suits where all is young, Where no dark tales of poverty Flow from the ready tongue.

Oft in the colder north I've seen The same light form arise, But never speaking to the heart As 'neath these warmer skies; Only the rich, the haughty, there Can place it o'er their door, But here it shades, and beautifies The dwellings of the poor. And surely ev'ry sight is good, And worth what words can say, Which raises them from gloom, and dirt Into a fairer day. A flower— a book— a pretty home — What little things they seem, Yet these have wrought by constant use Far more than many deem. All honour then to meanest things, Which raise the heart and head, And lead them on to think of more Than just their daily bread. And let my home verandahs have, And make them gay with flowers, And would that England's poorer sons Had homes as fair as ours. St. George. Auckland, July 14th, 1851.