ORIGINAL POETRY.

Temuka Leader, Issue 256, 13 May 1880, Page 2

ORIGINAL POETRY.

THE MAN IK THE MOON. The man in the moon, why came he down From his peaceful realm on high, Whore sorrowful moan is all unknown, And nothing is born to die ? The man in the moon was tine 1, °eems,Of living so long in the land of i 1 ams ; ’Twas a beautiful sphere, but nevertheless Its Inner life was passionless ; Unehcqtter’d by sorrow, undimm’d by crime, Untouch’d by the wizard wand of Time, -■ Twas all good. There wa* no scope For dread, and of course no room for ll>pe ; / To him the future had no fear To make the present doubly dear; The day no east of coming night To make tho borrow’d ray more bright, And life it*elf no thought of Death To sanctify the boon of breath ; In short, os we world-people say, The man in the moon was eanuy6 f And of late, dim vision-like the scent Of flowers unseen, that rsach the brain— Had with his dreams cunningly lent A pleasure, naif of which was pain, For they told of a fair and dist«nt sphere, Which drank of bis brains below, , Where joy and sorrow, smile and tear. And those twin-sisters, Hope and Fear, Hand link'd in hand did go. And “ Oh!” he cried, “ ’twere a lovely world For one like me to view, _ ■■ Where pleasure’s eyes are thus unpearl 0 By sorrow’s gentle dew; Where flowers but fade, and daylight sets To beam and blow again ; And every infant joy forgets ■'t So soon its parent—Pain ; The glad sun lighteth as of old This orbed hall of man, ' With crystal floor and roof of gold, And columns of argentine ; And here are fountains, purer far Than aught of earthly hue, With flowers as fa r as any star, And as immortal, too ; But yet methinks ’twere sweet to scan This darkling dwelling-plac * of man, Where chance and change are rife, To leave awhi'e this long repose, An V mark and mingle with the woes And joys of human life.” Sweet shone the li ht of the moon that night. In the absence of the sun. And out her fairhandinaidi-n s'ars Came f .’.lowing one by «me. And here and there some fleecy cloud Hung midway like at. Me, ! Seeming to say to each earthward ray, “Come, rest thee here awhile” ; And beautiful beneath the calm One half of earth was sleeping. Albeit her face still bore the trace Of vespers early weeping ; In sooth, she look’d so calm, so bright, So pure, you scarce could deem That happiness there was a thing of air. And hope itself a dream. On such an eve the lunar sprite Toward our planet flew, And where h- went, the firmament Seem'd dyed in deeper blue. That night full many a mortal eye On heaven’s vault did dwell Some mark’d afar a falling star, But none saw where it fell. It fell upon a lovely isle, Girt by the azure sea ; “ Full oft,” the sprite cried, my smile Hath fallen upon me. And now I come, from thee to learn ’ A Each passion-thought which may not burn Within my breast aboveBe mine the hope, the joy, tbe fear, The smile of pleasure,. pity s tear, And poetry of lore.” From his brow he has tahm the silver wreath. \rd folded hi* pinions bright, ■ As the beetle shuts in their ebon sheaths Its int er wings at night; . . .. He hath quenched the pearly h ? 11 • P J Through each transparent wing^ As cloudlets oft the moon o ershade. The change o’er-shadow d him ; He hath veil’d his form in earthly weed. Like to a child of clay, • , Self-taught to shun what might impede The tenor of hi< way ; And scarce had morning oped her lid When lie came to a city old : What there he saw. and what he did, Bomdineth to beftold, (To BK COWTIDCBoJ (This contribution being rather long, ™»hall publish about a column each issue till finished. —En L)