Poetry.

Waikato Times, Volume XXX, Issue 2426, 28 January 1888, Page 1 (Supplement)

Poetry.

A PAUPER'S SOLILOQUY. And has it come to this, and must T die T, who begun this life with prospects fair; Can it he true that this is really I, Or do I suticr with some, dread nightmare? Ah, no, my tatttsr'cl coiit und unkempt hair Proclaims nin that T am just what I am. A drunkard, plunged in horror's dark despair ; In fact, the ruined semblance af a man, My wife—to whom I pledged my youthful heart, To love, to hcnotir and protect—gone hence Now with her babe, from whom she'll no more part, Beyond the reach of trouble, time and sense, And I have blighted all, O God, my C-od, Why dost them let me cumber still the ground ? Would thou my feet this fair earth ne'er had trod. Vv'.i.iM that my spirit never had boon found ,\ :i J iiore 1 lie, a drunken pauper lost ; '■ iy reason, like my body, broken down, I\iy bite and sup served at the city's cost, And given me 'twixtii grumble and a frown. Oh, that niy spirit, in chaotic space Had been through immensity allowed to roam, Or that I never had seen mortal's face, Nor shape, nor colour similar to mine own. Nor felt the rays of yon bright genial sun, That shines on just and unjust all l.husnme. Nor hoard those heavenly words, "Blessed children, come," Nor sing a psalm to the Almighty's name. 'Drink—cursed drink has ruined nil, all, all. I look not now for pity—n"ne cm snvn ; I would but ciantion others by my fall, And try to save them from a drunkard's grave. Young man ! touch not the cup in any form ; The insidious monster lurkoth in each drop ; The little cloud oft presages the storm, So the first glance but covers sunken rock, List not unto the tempter when ho smiles, But take your stand, bo firm and bid him pass ; Heed not the jeer of him who, while he riles Drinks off with mirth the poison laden glass Wort possible my voice could move tho world, I'd shout till it would shake from pole to The temperance flag o'er it would be unfurled, And angels sing o'er many a ransomed soul. A SHEPHERD'S CONSOLATION. It's no' aye ruining on the misty Achills ; It's no' aye white wi' winter on Nicfur ; The winds are no' sae ninny sorrowin' Rachel That grieve, and u' their grief will not gie owre. Dark arc licuarty slopes an' the steep Lomon' Fling.- , a kng shadow on the wattei- plain ; But fair Lnchleven's no' for ever gloomin', An' Devan's no'aye dark wi'Lammas rain The birks tho' bare, an' the ■snno-uaked ashes Not always widowed of their leaves appear ; The oaks cry o it beneath November lashes, But not for all the months that mak' the year. Comes round a time, comes round at last tho' creepin', And green and glad again stand bush an' tree; E'en tender gowans thro' the young gress peepin', Kise in their weakness an' ower-rin the lea. Thus Nature sorrows, and forgets her sorrow ; And Keasnn soberly approves her way : Why should we shut nor een against tomorrow. Because our sky wan clouded yesterday ? Dear Adie; for we've lang kent aneamtlipr Tentin' nor (locks upon the selfsame hill, And if I spe;ik as brither .should to brilher, Yo'll neither turn inva' nor tak' it ill, — It's now thveo year since little Adie left us Adam ! it was the will of (iod bsreft us, Called him awn', and left the lavo o's here Three yeurs yo've sorrowed for the little laddie, It clouds your broo, I hear it when ye speak. And thrice I've seen when ithers sawna, Adie, The sudden tear upon your wasted cheek. Ye nurse ynur sorrow in the cheerfu' mornYe nurse it, too, at unavailing eve ; Our rustic giitherinffs with a silent morning, And all our rural sports and joys ye leave. Sorrow is snered, hut this sail , insistence, This lang refusal to Heaven's will to boo, Consider, Adie.! is't a wise resistance ? You'll go to him, he c.inua come ta you, And since you go to meet him, go not sadly, For the short half of life that yet remains : You love your son—go then to meet him glndly On that appointed day which Heaven ordains.