Poetry.

Waikato Times, Volume XXVIII, Issue 2280, 19 February 1887, Page 1 (Supplement)

Poetry.

A QUIET STEEAM. A quiet stream Flowed through a lovol meadow—all day long Its voice was heard in murmurous melody, That half a whisper seemed, and half a songYet no one paused to hear its harmony, Or marked the brightness of its sunny gleam. But where its course Was half arrested by the rugged stone It swelled and bubbled till with new-born power It leaped the barrier, all its weakness gone— Its spray ascending in a silvery shower, Its onward way pursued with added force. Its beauty then The artist praised, the poet sang, until Came many to admire the pretty scene, Half marvelling at the strength of such a rillA silver ribbonjparting banks of green, Swift as au arrow, deeper than their ken. So we in life, Unconscious of our strength, may pass along Our silent efforts vain—our labour lost— Content to rest unnoticed by tho thong, Whose paths in life our daily course have crossed, Till trouble comes to rouse us into strife. Then we possess Through labour, power—from pain and weariness Wβ learn the lesson that will make us strong, Endow us with capacity to bless— The world will listen to the stirring song, Born of a soul replete with earnestness! —Frances Lee Robinson, in January Bivouac. OVER THE SEA. Dark clouds o'er the heavens are sweeping, The wind murmurs wild and low, And it wails out the words that my lover Spake to me long, long ago : " We part but to meet, my darling!" Ah ! when will the meeting be ? The days grow to years so slowly, Now iny lover is over the sea. The white-crested waves are plashing Their tireless song at my feet, They have sung it so long and so falsely, That'l heed not the music sweet; 'Tis the old refrain they are chanting : "Some day we will bring him to thee !" But their notes have all grown discordant, Now my lover is over the aea. The sea-gulls around are flying, Their tale is the same to-day: "We have-seen tho lover, oh, maiden, In the land that is far away." Fly swiftly, fly swiftly, oh sea-gulls, And carry this message from ma: " Oh, love, oh, love, I am lonely. Come back to me over the sea." WHAT COULD I DO? Hβ asked me if I would be his bride One eve in the twilight gray. And he looked so handsome, and brave, . and true, That I could not say him nay. Hβ told me that he would guard me well As long as we both should live, And he only asked that I in return My hand, and my heart should give. Hβ whispered low in the still, soft eve, And I knew that my fate was sealed I knew that I loved him better than life, So what could I do but yield ? They told me he would leave me soon, They laughed at the light in my eyes ; But little I cared for the scorn of those Who were out of my Paradise. We loved each other as few can love, With a love that not death could kill; I knew it was so in those golden days, And I know that it is so still. He whispered low in the still, soft eve, And,l knew that my fate was sealed ; I knew that lie was dearer to mo than life, And what could I do but yield. We had not been wedded for long, we two, It was only a year and a day, When an angel came down from tho skies one night And called my beloved away. I heard the beat of the cold, white wings Through the aileut, starlit air, And I saw on ray dear one's face a calm That the living can never wear. I whispered low in the still, sweet ear, But tho lips that I kissed were sealed, For God had takon my love away, And what could 1 do but yield ? —Agnes Neale.