Poetry

Waikato Times, Volume XXVIII, Issue 2289, 12 March 1887, Page 1 (Supplement)

Poetry

AN OECHAED AT AVIGNON. Tiirc hills are white, but not with show : They are as pale in Summer timo, For herb or grass may never grow Upon their slopes of lime. Within the circle of the hills A ring, all flowering in a round, An orchard-ring of almond fills The plot of stony ground. More fair than happier trees, I think, Grown in well-watered pasture land, These parched and stunted branches, pink Above the stones and sand. . 0 white, austere, ideal place, Where very few will care to come, Where Spring hath lost the waving grace She wears for us at home ! Tain would I sit and watch for hours The holy whiteness of thy hills, Their wreath of pale auroral flowers, Their peace and silence fills. A place of secret peace though art, Such peace as in an hour of pain One moment fills the amazed heart, And never conies again. —Athemeum. WIN AND WEAR There's no royal road to greatness, Men must ever climb to fame ; All the wealth in misers' coffers Wouldn't buy a deathless name. Is a noble goal before you ? t Would you great achievements dare ? Brother, then be up and doingBrother ! you must " win and wear." Toil and labour, never stopping Till you make the prize your own ; For you know, 'tis "constant dropping "Wears away the hardest stone." , Never slack sublime endeavour, Nor midst cheerless toil despair ; If you'd rise above your fellows, Brother ! you must " winjand.wear." 'Tis the lesson Nature teaches All throughout her wide domain ; And the text from which she preaches, Is that "labour leads to gain." Moral worth and honest merit— Brighter crowns than monarch's! bear— These you never can inherit— Brother ! these yon *' win to wear." T. Mills.