Poetry.
BOYHOOD. The"fairy time of life, Jack, It’s now the time of yore ! And what a lovely world we lost When boyhood’s hour was o’er. We crossed the burn that runs between That and the world of men : The lad that takes the leap, Jack, He ne’er gets back again. Away, away, that fairy world Went floating wide and free, Its songs grew faint, its groves grew dim, ' The brook became a sea. And then the world of men, Jack, Called with an iron tone. And, waking from the dreams of youth, We were no more our own. Labour’s great clanking engine-house Opened, and shut us in, And long the memories of youth Were lost amidst the din. Time passed, and we grew older, Our elders passed away, And lads, we had been, came in, Just taken from their play. Their country looks, so fresh and wild, They touched us in J o pain : The joys that we had lost, Jack, We lost them o’er again. But. ah! in rain we sigh, we search, We’ll find it nevermore— The fairy world of boyhood We rambled in of yore. It’s not upon the green hillside, Nor yet within the glen; The gate of boyhood’s Eden, Jack, Is barred to bearded men.—Selected.
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/SOCR18930624.2.38
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Southern Cross, Volume 1, Issue 13, 24 June 1893, Page 10
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210Poetry. Southern Cross, Volume 1, Issue 13, 24 June 1893, Page 10
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