AT THE SIGN OF THE LYRE

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LIII, Issue 196, 28 November 1910, Page 7

AT THE SIGN OF THE LYRE

LOOKING FORWARD. I remember, 1 remember that little town Fitzroy, I played about its sleepy streets when I was but a boy, The townlet never grew an inch while I grew day by day; And in a drowsy, dreamy haze life gently slipped away. I remember, I remember the meeting in the hall, That antiquated building which even then seemed small, And how the bearded mayor, Knight Gustavus he of Tisch, Said: "Oh come into New Plymouth,'tis my heart core's dearest wish." Like some mighty fisherman of old he cast his hook and line, But the fishes weren't biting, they sat sleepy and supine. The case was stated temperately, fve often wondered since What was that atmosphere of doubt he failed quite to convince. The brows of the electors seemed with pain to corrugate At the facts arrayed by Gussy; yet they still would hestitate. And their gentle kindly faces seemed to ' say 'twould be a sin To accept your kindly offer ajad take New Plymouth in.

I remember, I remember when ¥red Foote fired off his gun, The people packed so tightly that you couldn't cut and run; The audience started into life, the fat man ceaeed to snore, While Frederick opened up the deal and stamped and ripped and tore. Airadi murky clouds ;of 'leloquenpe obscured the general view, And all New Plymouth delegates sat still with respect blue. And hats were off and sticks were wav»a and chairman Leslie Steele To be audible was sometimes forced to hold himself and squeal. And little Griffiths shouted till he made himself quite ill, And his voice failed so we christened him "vox praetere nil." And everybody spoke at once, and in the wordy haze Sat New Plymouth's bold Gustavus, a mute picture of amaze. There's a logic born of circumstance, you'll learn it boy in pain, 'Gainst its gentle yet compulsive force man ever fights in vain. It's described by many titles, but fk« Press calls it "the trend Of opinion of the Public," and it gets there in the end. And the wise man and the foolish, the worst man and the best, Must drift along its current, must obey its mute behest. You know not where it comes from, it is floating in the air, But wherever issues counter you will know the thing is there. You may laugh at its pretentions and repudiate its sway, You may sneer at its compulsion; in the end you will obey. So you'll know what the finish of the fret and fuss and din. After things have soaked along a while Fitzroy, of course, came in. Well, the trams have come here, sonny; v see them rushing, hustling by! They are crowded to the footways: and I sometimes heave a sigh For the peaceful old-time village, in the murmur of the sea, Where I spent my early boyhood, has a long while ceased to be; But look to right and left, son, see the shop fronts east and west With the fine two-storeyed buildings and the windows neatly dressed! And the land has jumped in value; those •old fellows that I know Who held on just made a fortune when the tramway line came through. Well, I see you looking round you; you have guessed the truth, my boy; The spot where you are standing is the centre of Fitzroy. —BOZ.