ORIGINAL POETRY.

New Zealander, Volume 7, Issue 567, 20 September 1851, Page 4

ORIGINAL POETRY.

THE FRIENDS WE MEET NO MORE. A while ago— a little while, I had a fair, luxurious home, And many light and willing feet Would at my bidding go and come. I lay upon a silken couch, Rich works of art enshrin'd me round, And nothing poor or rude to see Within that dwelling could be found, And friends familiar faces smiled Mine eyes to meet, my hands to press, It might have seemed that God had bless'd Mv life with all there was to bless. The home is gone — the land is left — Alone I do my bidding now, I have no silken couch whereon To rest an ofttimes weary brow, But if I grieve 'tis not for these, Such idle sorrows soon were o'er, 'Tis for those eyes whose light I've lost, 'Tis for those Friends I meet no more. Dearer than ever aught can be Again to heart or eye of mine, Across the wide and lonely sea Those beacon lights of mem'ry shine. And if by chance a face I meet, (And there is one that I have met,) Wearing a transient look that brings Back those I never can forget; That look will haunt my restless dreams, That face will rise t'wixt heaven and me, And lightest wish or thought from thence, More than command from others be. Yet sundered hearts, and tearful eyes Shall meet— shall wipe their tears away, When all this short and fleeting night Breaks forth into a cloudless day. And in the bowers dim seen afar That gem the unknown golden shore, The spirit purified shall meet The Friends that here we meet no more. St. George. Auckland, September 16th, 1851.