ORIGINAL POETRY. BEN ARDEN.

Te Aroha News, Volume I, Issue 37, 16 February 1884, Page 4

ORIGINAL POETRY. BEN ARDEN.

I remember old Ben Arden, and his hazelskirted garden, And his cottage with its roses in the corner of the lane ; And the acre to him granted, and the trees and flowers he planted, Which he loved lor love of beauty more than for a love of gain. Arden was a quiet neighbour, and he earned his bread by labour, Mowing grass in summer weather, often busy at the plough ; He rose early in the morning, when the rooster pave him warning That the lark was upward singing, and new light was on the bough. When his lone: day's work was over, 'mong the fields of wheat and clover, Many were the wordless voices which this toiling peasant heard ; And he welcomed each new comer of the springtime and the summer, Whether it were flower, dew-laden, humming bee, or merry bird. Blushing maidens of the village, and shy swains inured to tillage. Would halt before Ben's cottage, and the Robin's favourite perch ; And the girls u ith faces rosy were presented with a posy As they passed on Sunday mornings to the ivy-mantled Church. When the autumn sunlight glistened on Ben's apple trees, he listened To the linnet 'mone; the bushes, with sere leaves and berries blent ; Each song-bird gave him pleasure, but the trees he deemed a treasure, For they bore the golden fruitage which made up his yearly rent. The great world Ben little heeded, self-reform he thought was needed, Hence he strove, to do his duty with composure in his looks ; Sat at eve among the foliage, drew from Nature stores of knowledge, Held communion with his Maker, while he road the chief of books. Thus lived Ben till old and weary, out upon the moorland dreary ; He fell dead among the heather. Thirty years have passed since then, Still in yonder churchyard lonely, where 'mid grass bloom daisies only. May bo traced one simple headstone — o'er the graA r e of poor old Ben. Long has passed that simple peasant, from his cot and garden pleasant ; And tho acre where he laboured with his spado and pruning knife. And may we, like honest Arden, live and toil in God's fair garden ; Then how sweet will be the flowers, and how rich the fruits of life.