ON MY TWENTIETH BIRTHDAY.

Tuapeka Times, Volume III, Issue 151, 29 December 1870, Page 7

ON MY TWENTIETH BIRTHDAY.

JSTov. 24, 1870. •*' Well Jaques, my boy," said Father Time tome, " I see another ring upon your horn, Which altogether makes — now lch me see — Jupt twenty rings, or years, since jou were •born. Another misspent year has passed away,

That cannot be recalled again — " " 1 know." "4-ndjffit you are no fai'ther on to-day Thai^pu appeared to be a year ago. " I tell thee age is stealing on apace, Tl^ragh imperceptible its footsteps now ; When you outlive the score, you soon may trace The lines of age fast settling on your brow. And should you take a retrospective view Of your past life, some fifty summers hence t (lf you be living then), 'twill seem to you Much shorter than in the experience. •"Why waste your golden youth, your precious time, In scrawling on thro" days and months and years ? In plodding through the dreamy realms of rhyme AVhen nothing good in the effect appears ? To something manlier engage thy mind Than flimsy sentiments. What is a Bard ? A chameleon, feeding on a breath of wind, Whose food and drink is fame— his sole regard. "And what's this phantom of his visions — i'aine ? And when to be enjoyed ? What, after death ! To gain a reputation and a name When he resigns his miserable breath ! A poor reward this for a life of toil, For many a sleepless night and restless day ! Is this the fruit that springs from classic soil, The weary tiller's labours to repay ? " Arise ! within the market-place of life There's other things of greater import far ; Why seek to shine, beyond this worldly strife, A solitary, dim poetic star ? Be up ! and join the fight while there is time To make thy future independence sure ! Were you to live ten centuries to rhyme, Thy poetry would keep thee ever poor." " Avaunt, old man ! I'll scribble just to spite You and the world, whate'er ye say or do ! My scribbling pleases me, so I will write To please myself, and not to pleasure you. 'Twill keep me poor — that cannot be denied - But I cm live — can any king do more ? I'd rather starve than stoop to flatter pride. And praise, as many do, what I abi'or I "Away ! what matters it for wealth untold — Vain, transitory pomp - when one cm live ? Where there is happiness, what need for gold? I only wish for wealth that I might give. What you woul.l have me I can never be ! No calculating man of business I. A busy life hath not a charm for me ; I rhyming live— so rhyming let me die." """ ' — "*■— -. Jaques. Castle-street, Dunedin, Nov., 1870.