WHY?
I often think my life is a blank, A shadowy dream of what shoi^d bo ! And what, I wonder oft in my days, Is the good of these pleasant dreams to me ? Dreaming! Ay, dreaming of fairy realms, To reap but sorrow, and grief, and woo; Climbing the ladder that tops the hills, But only to fall in tho depths below ! And soaring ever in spring's swcot timo, With the blessed larfr , to hoaven's gate ; Only to fail with the thunder-cloud, Ever wailing and mourning my fate ! Why, then, am I over to mourn 1 Why ford tho torrent, ov breast the wave 1 Why sing of hopo with an aching heart To stand by tho side of a waiting grave 1 Why am I hero? and what \ise am 1 1 I only sing of the days to be. But I cannot reach the crown I weave Nor foci the wealth of a spirit made free. Then why? Perchance some hiddon power Uses a heart and its treasured lore To sing some lay of a better day And tho blessed roalms of a brighter shore ; For how could a bird know freedom's worth Unless 'twas caged somo timo in lifo ? And how may a poet sing of hope, Unless his heart has bled in strife ? And so this, perchanco, may be tho why My days are dnrk and tho nights are long ; God ovov rises a woary heart To lighten others with its heiven-song !
W. It, Wills.
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Te Aroha News, 26 November 1887, Page 7
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249WHY? Te Aroha News, 26 November 1887, Page 7
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