Select Poetry.
LIFE HATH ITS BARREN YEARS.
Life hath its barren, years, When blossoms fall untimely down, When ripened fruitage fails to crown The' Summer toil; when Nature's frown Looks only on our tears. Life hath its faithless days, The golden promise of the morn, That seemed for light and gladness born Meant only noontide wreck and scorn, Hashed harp instead of praise.
Life hath its valleys, too, When we must talk with strait regret, With mourning clothes, with wild rain wet, Towards sunlight hopes that soon must set;, All quenched in pitying dew.-
Life hath its harvest moons,. Its tasseled corn and pulp weighed vine; Its gathered sheaves of grain, the blessed
1 sign, ; . Of plenteous ripening bread, and pure, rich. wine, : Full hearts for hardest times.
Life hath its hopes fulfilled : Its glad fruitions, its blest answered prayer, Sweeter for waiting long, whose holy air, Indrawn to silent souls,, breathes forth its
rare, Grand speech of joy distilled.
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/THS18840301.2.2
Bibliographic details
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Thames Star, Volume XV, Issue 4727, 1 March 1884, Page 1
Word count
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160Select Poetry. Thames Star, Volume XV, Issue 4727, 1 March 1884, Page 1
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