Poetry. "LIFE HATH ITS BARREN YEARS."
Life hath its barren yeiu s, When blossoms full untimely down, When ripened fruitage fails to crown The summer toil, when natme's fiow'n Looks only on our tcai s. Life hath its faithless days, The golden piomisc of the mom, That seemed for light and gladness bom, Meant only noontide wicclc and scorn, Hushen'd harp instead of piiuse. Life hntli its >nllejs, too; Where we must talk with vain lugict. With mourning clothed, with wild nun wot, Toward sunlight hopes that soon must set, All quenched in pitying dew. Life huth its harvest moons, Its tasseled corn and purple-weighted \nie ; Its gathered sheaves of giain, the blessed sign Of plenteous ripening bread and nine nrh wine, Full hearts for harvest tunes. Life hath its hopes fulfilled ; Its glad fruitions, its blest answcied pia>er, Sweeter for waiting long, whose holy air, Indrawn to silent souls, bieathcs foith lib iau>. Grand speech by joy distilled.
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Waikato Times, Volume XIX, Issue 1619, 18 November 1882, Page 1 (Supplement)
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159Poetry. "LIFE HATH ITS BARREN YEARS." Waikato Times, Volume XIX, Issue 1619, 18 November 1882, Page 1 (Supplement)
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