ORIGINAL POETRY.

Poverty Bay Standard, Volume II, Issue 138, 21 February 1874, Page 3

ORIGINAL POETRY.

ST. VALENTINE AND HIS LADY. A lady came to * snow white bier, Where a youth lay pale and dead ; And bending low to his ear, she said— As she took tile veil from her widow’d head — Awaken I For 1 am here. Smiling, she pass’d to a wild wood near, Where the trees stood gloomy and bare, She tapp’d on the bark with her fingers fair, And said to the leaves that were buried there, Awaken! For lam here. The Birds beheld her without fear, As she walked thro’ the deep’ning dells ; She breath’d on their downy citadels, And said to the young in their ivory cells, Awaken! For I am here. "On the Graves of the Howers, she dropped a tear ; But with hope and joy like us, And e’en as the Lord to Lazarus, She call’d to the slumb’ring sweet flowers thus — Awaken ! For I am here. To the Lillies that lay on the golden mere, To the reeds in the silver pond, To the moss that rounded its marge beyond, She spoke with a voice so soft, so bland, Awaken 1 For I am here. The Violet peeped with its blue eye clear, From the dales and the hills o’erhead, The daisies’ fingers were tipp’d with red, And startled to life as the lady said— Awaken ! For I am here. 'The Rush rose up with his pointed spear, The Flagg, with his falchion broad, The dawk uplifted his shield unaw’d, As her voice rang clear, thro’ the quick’ning sod, Awaken! For lam here. The Young Year rose from his snow white bier, The birds and flowers, from their green retreat: And mingling all their voices sweet, They came and knelt at the lady’s feet, Saying : Behold us here ! T. C. D.