SELECT POETRY.

Southland Times, Issue 690, 1 July 1867, Page 3

SELECT POETRY.

STEROPE. By J. Noel Patomv Chilly the white mist creeps, The dank wind sobs and weeps, Heavily fall the dead leaves from the tree ; All starless overhead The murky heavens are spread, The muffled moon looms o'er the weary sea ; While by the midnight shore I listen to the roar Of ebbing waves, and sadly muse on Thee. On thee, and that far time When, like a silvery chime " Of wedded bells, faint-heard through summer air— Or heaven-inspired words Blent with majestic chords Of music, where a people bow in prayer, Our hearts in unison — Diverse, though still as one ! — Wove golden concords round us everywhere. Till God's fair universe — As though the primal curse For us had ceased— appeared a glorious fane, Where, rapt in ectasy Of worsh'p, thou and I Knelt, all enfranchised from the touch cf pain j While softly from above Stooped the white angel Love, To link our lives in one with flowery chain. The wondrous pageantry Of air and earth and sea : Shadows of lovelier— of diviner things ! The starry hopes that guide Man's spirit through the wide And perilous waste of life, to truth's pure springs j Echoes that downward float From the high heaven of thought Where soar the kings of song on sunlit wings. These Btill did minister To holy joy, and stirAll noblest passions : — even corporeal sense Subliming in the flame Of love, till it became The spotless handmaid of fair Innocence ; Whose calm and candid oyeß Filled all our paradise With their OWn splendor — stainless and inicxioo But in the blessed hour When least I feared his power The snake slid in, and at thy slumbering ear Hissed his sleek blasphemies Grlozed in such honied lies As cozened even thy soul, serene and clear. And now — I walk apart With solitary heart Mourning my Eden lost, with many an unshed tear. Yet not for self alone I mourn the glory gone : life, though obscure, is still for me divine j My spirit keeps its faith, And shall unto the death ! But what, frail heart, can: ere restore to thine Its birthright lost ? — its high Communion with the sky ? — Its priceless pearls downcast under the feet of swine ? Hark from the hollow north A wind comes trampling forth ; The cloudy cope is rent, and far above Tempest and rack, the pole, Shines steadfast. Q, my soul, • Accept the presage ! The Eternal Dove Who formed, will still sustain : Will to the fold again Lead back his blood-washed lamb, though wide and far she rove !

Education. — " Pour vrater hastily into a vessel of a narrow neck, little enters ; pour gradually, and by small quantities, and the vessel is filled!" Such is. the simile employed by Quinqtilian to ahow tha foil? # t^aobjog phttwen; t9o mugh at