Page 4 Advertisements Column 1

Tuapeka Times, Volume I, Issue 11, 25 April 1868, Page 4

ORIGINAL POETRY: " THE SWEET STORY OF OLD." I had listened to a story olden, Of a Man of Sorrows, of a thorny crownj 'Tis an ever-precious, beaming legend golden A story of much honor and renown. As I listened, fast tho tears .were falling, • And a world of sorrow became all my own, As I listened to the treacl lery of friends sogalling, And saw him bear his burdens oil alone. Then a pure and deep-felt thrilling passion, R ushed storm-like thro' in j nature to it s coro; Life assumed a G-od-like noble fashion, " Which it never hold for me in it beTore. Then I saw that yet a path of glory, Might lead up to-purer, up to holier life j As the accents of that sweet-told human story, Came to calm the terror of the strife.^ For a strife to most men is there living — Hard the struggle, cross the battle-field j Stern groans the bravest still are giving— Heart-wrung tears fall as tho weaker yield. Tell the Btory of the time co olden, Tell it while the nations are distressed ; O ! in truth, it ib of tissue rare and golden, -It shall wrap the weavy world in endleas rest. Tevfot, April, 1868. y^-l O.BIttINAL SONG. • BT SMAII PICA. Air— "Exile of Erin." I weep for thee, Erin ; my blessing upon thee; I sigh for thy troubles I see from afar ; And still will I love you, though coldness be shown you, Oh land of my childhoad, dear Erin go braugh. Sweet Isle of the west, where the sun shining brightly, Dispels tho dark shadows from mountain and ka; It clings round my lipart, for I dream of it nightly ; O Erin, idj country, I still sigh for thce. Alas what sad change has there been since I wandered Away mid the scenes of the land of my birth ; And still do I think of them, oft have 1 pondered, And sighed for past pleasures, the happiest • on earth. Oh, when will thy children once more cease to wander, * •* And^*est with their fathers who sleep 'neath toe sod ; Each breast filled with love, and each heart growing fonder Of home and their kindred, their friends and their God? t Lawrence, 23rd April, 1868, | PROLOGUE Written by Mrs. Fuitok, and read by Mes. Moouey, at the Wetherstones Entertain xnent, held on Monday, 13th inst. Frfendsi how delightful 'tis to meet Where we may genial faces greet, ! Where smiling lips and beaming eyes, The scoff, the sneer, the frown defies ; Rejoicing in some inborn joy, Which gives the dancing heart employ. Such joy, dear friends, is our's to-nyht j Yield thou the smiles and glances bright. We long,Jyou know, have tried to find A garden for the infant mind— • Where, 'neath our loving anxious gaze, Our flowrets might imbibe the rays And drink tho dews at Learning's fount, And all its drudgery surmount. It wore the little bodies down, The trudging into yonder 'town j And saying nought about the weather, Think on the w,ear-and-tear of leather. None here, J?m sure, would care to mock its "* Exceeding weight upon the "pockets; And joyfully we hail the day That by our sides they learn and play: Through Mr. Gorman we have found Our little patch of garden ground; The memory of the deed will rest * Like a soft blessing upon his breast. For Mackney*B gen'rous present too, Of teacher's desk, our thanks are duo ; j The handsome gift so plainly tells j 'The kindness in his heai't which dwells. j "And then, to till the tender soilTo guide nfith love, and weed with toil — We've one in whom we can confide, In Mr. Johnston, at your side ; ' And see you lend a helping hand, For much lies at your own command. The heart maf weary, tho', 'tis true ; Do thou its waning strength renew, By yielding praise when juit and due ; And ere within their snug warm nest, Thy little ones are laid to rest, Bee that the daily task is said, ' And firmly fixed in each young head ; That so in this their opening day, They may in peace and gladness stray Along the paths of Wisdom's way. Now, every Wetberstonian Jiere, To whom this is an object dear, I pray to work with hand and heart, To take an interest, take n part, And working all as if but one, A grand result will thus he won. And even our " Rambler" on hit way May turn his steps aside, and say (While bright from his astonished eyes Gleam looks of wondering surpiise) » Well, really ! if I had not seen it J These folks do marvels when they mean it," And then, that crotchety " Old Peter " (I tremble for my doubtful metre), Who wields so well his witty pen— A mystery to his fellow men, ■ Unknown alike to friends and foes— May his identity disclose, And in astonishment exclaim — '•' As Peter P.iper is my name ! In future I will have thee down, Like Scott, 'Mine own ronnntic town,' . . And sigh no more for Culedonia, But to my heart take Wetheretbnia, Att'l never in the future ihun it ; ' • l-hifi'noVth/jught ye could hare don»Mt."