Poetry THE GRAVEDIGGER'S SONG.

Waikato Times, Volume XXX, Issue 2423, 21 January 1888, Page 1 (Supplement)

Poetry THE GRAVEDIGGER'S SONG.

The crab, tho bnllacc nnd the sloe, They burgeon in the Spriuj?; And when the west wind melts the snow The redstarts build and sing, But Death's at work in rind and root, And loves the preen buds best ; And when the pairing music's mnto He spares the empty nest, Death ! Death ! Death is master of loul and clown ; Close the coHin and hammer it down. When nuts are brown and sere without, And white and plump within, Ami juicy gourds are passed about, And trickle down the chin ; When comes the reaper with his scythe, And reaps and nothing leaves, 0 then it is that death is blithe, And sups anions the sheaves. Death ! Death ! i, iwer the colli" and slip the cure], Death ia mastor of clown and lord. When logs about the house are stacked, And next year's hose is knit, And tales are told and jokes are cracked, And fasreots blaza and spit; Deatli sits down in the ingle-nook, Sits down and doth not speak ? But he puts his arm round the maid tnats warm, And she tingles in the cheek. Death ! Deatli ! Death is master of lord and clown ; . Shovel the clay in, tread it down. , —Public Opinion. MEAN. Why doth he so cheerily hum as lie goes ? What makes him so merrily greet Ev'ry passenger that it may happen he knows ? What, pray, hath lent wings to his feet > Is't Cupid that's filling his bosom with joy ? Or lias lie a maiden aunt lost ? Or has he just learnt that he's dad to a boy Aud hasn't yet counted the coat ? Perchance he has won o'er a lately run race? A new bicycle, pr'aps, he has bought? Or maybe he's told ma-in-law to her face She works her tongue more than she might Perhaps, on 'Mo ; Pa :' both wisely and well He's punted and sold fire the Fall ? 0 mi! All are wrong. Don't think it a sell, He's passed a bad quarter—that's all. HER WILL AND HER WAY. Her papa stormed and her mamma cried, Laura smiled aud said, " We'll see ; A snap far all your family pride. My Will's good enough for me." They raved and vowed "You shall not get wed ; We'll shut you up night and day. But Laura smiled on and sweetly said, "Where there's a Will there's a way. Will thought so, tun, and one dark midnight The maid grew sick just to suit; Four doctors came, so that science might O'er her symptoms hold dispute. By some queer chance Master Will was there, And, as I hear the folks say, The 'doctors' left them a wedded pair— ' Where there's a Will there's a way." The row, next morning, began with ' minx.' But before the sun had set Arrangements were made to hold high jinks And the word was changed to ' pet.' Will was happy as a lark in the sky, So ended this little play ; The dIiI folks were pleased, and Laurawhy, She had her Will and her way. A BIRTHDAY OAED. lam forty to-day—() ! Rood gracious ! It's time [ was sobering down ; My youth has been—well, say vivacious— It might make a moralist frown. I have drunk of the goblet of pleasure, And the taste lingers yet on my tuiißue. I have tripped to the merriest measure. And the gayest of songs I have suiifj. And now—well, I I'KKt, that I'm forty : I've come to the period when One sighs o'er the joys that are vanished. And longs to be twenty again. I am forty to-day, and 1 linger At the milestone that stands on the track, It is ' Forward' Hope points with her finger, But 1 mournfully turn and look back. I have had my full burthen of sorrow, My heart is no longer a boy's, And I know 'tis the task of to-morrow To take toil for our yesterday's joys. Hope isn't so strong when you're forty, Life's sadder fur iniddleup;ed men, But perhaps when I come to be eighty, I shall wish I was koktv again.