SELECT POETRY.

Tuapeka Times, Volume I, Issue 21, 4 July 1868, Page 5

SELECT POETRY.

TOO DEEP FOR WORDS.

With white and quivering lips she stands, And grasps her silken hair ; In eager haste, with earnest hands, The image of despair. Her big blue eyes are dim with dread, While tears unbidden start ; I seem to feel each drop like lead Fall heavy on my heart. " Sweet maid," I cried, "so young and fair, What mean those trembling looks of care — That dim and tearful eye ? Thy sorrows should be a world of mirth ; The sorrows and the ills of eai-th Might surely pass thee by. Has man been fickle, false, and cold — Thy love been given in vain ; Have you but lived to learn, the old, Old story o'er again ? If so, cheer up, the world is wide, Thy virgin heart is young ; You'll live to be a blooming bride — To scorn a lying tongue." "Hush, hush !" she cried, with bursting tears, " My woe is sterner far ; He well may scorn the grief that scars Who never felt a scar. Oh ! that this tender frame would melt, Or else be turned to stone ; My heart,, my heart will burst in twain, The maddening thought will turn my train : My cherished chignon's gone ! "

A Clever Harpist.— 4p£-Tominas. Got A&axn. — Why is a he-goat with a family like a lively letter ? — Because he's a nanny-mated Billy. Strictly Honest.— Seedy Customer (who has JUßC finished a bottle of beer): — "I say, guvnor, whose beer's that ? " Publican : — " Oh, Bass's, of course ! " Seedy Customer : — " Ah, then the first time I've the pleasure of seeing him, I'll pay him for it ! " Don't Attempt it. — Dip the Mississippi dry with a teaspoon— twist your heel into the toe of your boot — send up fishing-hooks with balloons and flsh for stars — get astride a gossamer and chase a comet — when a rain storm is coming down like the cataract of Niagara, remember where you left your umbrella — choke a flea with a brickbat — in short, prove everything hitherto considered impossible to be possible — but never attempt to coax a woman to say she will, when she has made up her mind to say she won't.

A New Zealand missionery — it was before Bishop Selwin's days — once took upon himself, as in duty bound, to point out to a Maori chief the sinfulness of polygamy. The chief was not a very gross offender in this respect : he had only two wives. When the missionary made his next visitation, the intelligent savage approached his spiritual guide with joy in his countenance. " Got only one wife now," he lemarked. " What have, you done with the other ? " asked the reverend gentleman. "Me eat her," was the terse reply.

" And so yore going out to the Ea3t "Hingies, my darlint, Mrs. Marooney ? " said an old Irish crone to the young wife of a soldier about to embark for Madras ; " I've been in them parts meeself ; and well do I remember the torments I went through night and day with t'le niuskcatoes. They have long suckers hanging down from their heads, and they'll draw the life-blood oat of ye before you can say • pease.' " This terryfying account lived in the memory of tbe young woman. The vessel made Madras roads ; the decks were soon crowded, all hands delighted at seeing land, Mrs. .Marooney among the rest; but her joy was of short duration, for on the land she saw an elephant. Horror stricken at the sight, and in ' breathless agitation, she approached the mate, exclaiming, with uplifted hands, " Holy, mother ! is that a muskcalo ? "

At the battle of Trafalgar, two Scotchmen, messmates and bosom cronies from the same clachan, happened to be stationed near each other when the celebrated intioiation was displayed from the Admiral's ship. " Look up aud read, Jock," said the one to the other — ' England expects every man to do his du'y' — not a word for puir old Scotland on th>s occasion.'* Jock cocked his eye on tjie object, and tuvning Lo his companion, thus addressed him : " Man, Geordie, ia that a' your sense ? Scotland kens weel enough that her bairns will do tbeir duty; that's just a hint to the Englishmen."

The Poet Laureate's " Poetry." -Mr. Tennyson has contributed another poem to " Good Words," which now divides with " Once a Week " the favors of his Muse. This is the latest contribution to the former : - 1865- 1866. I siond on a tower in the wet, And New Year and Old Year met, And winds were roaring and blowing ; | And I said, "Oh years that meet in tears, Have ye aught that is worth the knowing? Science enough and exploring, Wanderers coming and going, Matter enough for deploring, But ar.ght that is worth the knowing ? " Seas at my feet were flowing, Waves on the slr'ngle poming, Old Year roaring and blowing, And New Year blowing and roaring. Alibed Tennyson. A correspondent sends us (the " Morning Star ") the following, which he says he thinks rather an improvement on Tennyson :—: — 1867—1868. I sat in a 'bus in the wet " Good Words " I happened to get, With Tennyson's last bestowing ; And I said, " Oh. bard who works so hard, Have you aught that is worth the knowing, Verses enough, and so boring, — Twaddle quite overflowing, Rubbish enough for deploriag, But aught that is worth the knowing ?" Placards on walls were glowing, - Puffs in the papers pouring, " Good Words " roaring and blowing, " Once a Week " blowing and roaring.