VARIOUS VERSES.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXIX, Issue 8254, 6 October 1906, Page 3

VARIOUS VERSES.

MOTHERHOOD. The night throbs on; O, letjnepray, dear Lord! Crush off his name a moment from my moutb. To Thee my eyes would turn, but they go hack, Back to ruy arm beside me where be lay— St little, Lord, so little and so warm! , I oannct think that Thou hadst need of him! He was 80 little, Lord, he cannot sin?, He cannot praise'.lhee; all his life bad learned Was to hold fast my kisses in the night. Give him to me—he is not happy there! He bad not felt this life; his lovely eyes Just knew iuß for liis mother, ana he died. Haßt 'lhou an augel there to mother him? I say h$ loves mo heat—if he forgets, If Thou allow it that my child for geta And run not out to meet me when I OOUiO —■ What'am ra.v curses to Thee? Thou hast heurd The curse ofAbel's mother, and since then We have not oeusect to threaten at Thy tnroue To threat and pray 'lbee that Thou bold them still Ic memory of us. See Thou teud him well, Thou God of all the mothers. If he laok One of bia kisses—Ah my heart, cry heart, Do nngnla fcisa in heaven? Give him hack! Forigve dp, 1 Lord, but I am sick with gnef. j, And tirod of tears and cold to comforting. Thou art wise, I know, ana tender, aye, and good, Thou hast my cbild,and he is safe in Tbep, And 1 believe Ah God, my child shall go Orphaned.among the angels! All aloiile, • So little aud alone! He known not Thee, ... He only knows his mather—give him back! —Josephine Dodge Daskam, in bcribner's.

A KNIGHT OF THE UUSH

No Bilken-handed axvaia nra 1, I tune ao lute aui flaunt no bannor, Euil not on Fate, no gods defy, Hut wno iu quite a different mannor; Yet 1 would all the world forsake And give my lite for hei' dear sake. I moleskiu we&r tor aruionr bright, For lauco uiy supple Btookwhip wielding; Life's battle uudismay'd I fight— Arm'd with ber. love I kuow no yielding. Gould spurr'd and belted knight do more, Tho' lnnce and plume and ehiold bo bore? No task for her is hard or mean, No dizzy height seems past attaining; All harm and her I stand between No service for my love disdaining. Proud of a strong and ready arm To guard ( and keep her safo from harm. When hßr soft vobe in song is rais'd, 1 breathe the calm of holy places. And my vile nature Bhrinka abas'd As one who shames 'lore angels' faoos; Yet, humbly, taught by her, believing, Heav'n's not too fat for my achieving. —M. W. L. Roper.

A REVERIE.

The birds are singing sweetly on the yellow wattle bough. Their merry notes fall softly on the ear; You are toiling in the city, tired hands and aching brow, While I dream away the moments waiting here. Once we wandered by the river, and sang an old love-song. Yoq told your love beneath the wattle bough. t I promised I should wait—although the waiting would be long— And weary are the years 'twixt then and now. As I rest besde the river, iri the old familiar way, And the scent of yellow blossom fills the air, It reminds me of the sweetness in the gloaming of that day, When you and 1 together wandered there. The birds are sweetly singing and the flowers bloom again, But in place of shady gum and wattle buugb I can see you iu your office, and my heart is full of pain As I trace the weary liues upon your brow. And as J hear the ripple of the river at my feet, 1 know my love has stronger, purer, grown; Yqu will ever find me waiting s mid the scent of wattle sweet, While the bird's song mingles gladly with my own. -A. H. Rentoul.