THE POET’S CORNER

Rangitikei Advocate and Manawatu Argus, Volume XXXIII, Issue 9079, 20 February 1908, Page 6

THE POET’S CORNER

THREE GHOSTS. The ghost of what I was doth stand Par off, in a forsaken land ; Wide swing the doors of empty halls Where but her soundless footstep falls; Fair ashen wraiths bloom over there In the still light and breathless'air; So sad her smile, so cold her cheer, I weep; she once was ciose’and dear. The ghost of what I thought to be Waits for me in the wind and sea; Out of a cloud her beauty gleams, A long-forgotten face of dreams. She waves the sacred trysting-sign; She sings—and oh, the songs were mine 1 She seems to wear the crown I wove In youth—she was my youth’s first love. The ghost of what I am, more strange And sad, abides from change to change; Unreal as these, she haunts me still Companion of my fate, not .will; With brow defeated, wan, perplext, As one that scans a baffling tost, .When, from her dim’and awful book, Toward lightening heaven she lifts her look— I thrill —it seems a sad soul’s face, From the fire-prison, prays for grace ; And close by that same flash, I see My angel of the life to be. " —CARL SPENCER. Springfield Republican.