Select Poetry.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 227, 22 January 1876, Page 3

Select Poetry.

AT PARTING. For a clay and a night Love sang to us, played with us. Folded us round from the dark and the light; And our hearts were full filled of the music he made with us— Made with our hearts and our lips while he stayed with us; Stayed in mid passage his pinions from flight For a day and a night. From his foes that kept watch with his wings had he hidden us, Covered us close from the eyes that would smile ; From the feet that had tracked and tongues that had chidden us, Sheltering in shade of the myrtles forbidden us, Spirit and flesh growing one with delight For a day and a night. But his wings will not rest and his feet will not stay for us; _ Morning is here in the joy of its might. With his breath has he sweetened anight and a day "Now let him pass and the myrtles make way for us, Love can but last in us here at Ins height For a day and a night. — Athcnwum. A- C. Swinburne. CHERISHED DREAM. Some day, some day of days, threading the street With idle, heedless pace, Unlooking for grace, I shall behold your face ! Some day, some day of days, thus may we meet. Perchance the sun may shine from skies of May, Or winter’s icy chill Touch whitely vale and hill; What matter ? I shall thrill Through every vein with summer on that day. Once more life’s perfect youth will come back, And for a moment there _ I shall stand fresh and fair, And drop the garment care ; Once more my perfect youth will nothing lack. I shut my eyes now, thinking how ’twill be — How face to face each soul Will slip its long control, Forget the dismal dole •Of dreary fate’s dark, separating sea. And glance to glance and hand to hand in greeting. The past with all its fears, Its silence and tears, Its lonely, yearning years, Shall vanish in the moment of the meeting. —Elizabeth S. Phelps. MOONRISE. What light, from yonder windless cloud released Is winding up the peaks of yon black hill? It is the full moon in the mystic east. Whose coming half the unravished darkness fills ; Till all among the ribbed light cloudlets pale, From shore to shore of sapph’rine deeps divine • ’ The orbed splendor seems to slide and shine Aslope the rolling vapors in the vale, Abroad the stars majestic light is flung. And they fade brightening up the steeps of night. Owen Meredith.