FRIENDSHIP,

Waikato Times, Volume XXX, Issue 2456, 7 April 1888, Page 1 (Supplement)

FRIENDSHIP,

True Friendship's like a guiding star That shines with brilliant ray, It lights the hi>nio, reflects afar, And cheers life's nigged way. Its glorious light can neve- fade, But like a heavenly flume, In vouth'a bright morn or age's shade For evermore tha same. It drives away dark Sorrow's form, And with a cheerful voice It smothers cold Misfortune down And bids the heart rejoice. And when Adversity's dary day Life's sky has overcast, Then Friendship warm lights up the way Till every storm is past. It liftß the drooping spirit up That long in grief hath lain, AnJ bids tho sorely troubled aup The joys of life again. Or, like a firm and binding chain, With links of purest love, Its holy tie no power can strain, Nor slander's tongue remove. In union strong it binds each heart With pure affection ; and There's nought but death can set apart That true and holy band. True friendship grand, like love refined, To suff'ring mortals given, Dispels life's cares, and •jives mankind A bright foretaste of Heaven. John M'Combe.

AUTUMN. Macmillan's Magazine). A fitful wind about the eaves, That sways the creaking door ; The shadows of the falling leaves Flit past me on the floor. The Autninn skies are clear above, But silent is their song ; Oh, spirit of the changeless love Keep back my Autumn Ions: ! In vain with gold the forest weaves Its sylvan greenness o'er ; The shadows of the falling leaves Flit past me on the floor. It means the world is growing old, It means no birds to sing ; Oh, not for all the Autumn's gold Would I forego my Spring ! —il. R. WEARY. Weary ! weary ! Oh that soma soft breeze Would nurse me weary on its hurrying breast, And coursing lightly o'er the moaning seas, Whirl me to rest. Weary ! weary ! all the sunny noon Toiling ! and evor, when the hope seemed high Of some sweet solace that had charmed me Boon. Seeing it fade and die! What though for comfort by the wild side. Sweet flowers are waving dainty buds on high, If that one flower, my darling and my pride. Bloomed but to die. Weary ! weary ! in a vision shown Sweet angel faces that might have soothed my pain. Dear angel love that might have been my own, But all untimely slain. Weary ! weary ? but when the allotted part Of joyless life be spent and noon be past, Even the weiry, broken, bettered heart May find a rest at last. •Oscar Boulton, in " Temple Bar."

JUST TOO LATE,

When she was eighteen, sweet and coy,

And he a lad <>l twenty-two, She treated him as quite a boy, Aβ maidens oft are wont to do. And if he craved a flower, a dance,

Or sought a quiet tete-a-tete, She'd answer with a mocking glance— " So sorry, but you're just too late ! " The years went by : no need to crave For dances when by chance they met, And tutes-a-teto she freely gave

For she, you know, was single yet. She " thought she mils'; be twenty-nine " Her glass, and truth said thirty-eieht, Bhould he propose, she'd not decline Or say "So sorry, just too late !" Came Leap Year and St. Valentine A chance by kindly Fortune lent ; A heart, a dart; "Wilt thou be mine ?" To him a billet-doux .she sent. Return of post his answer came—

Oh joy, oh bliss, it held her fate ; Some wedding cake, two cards, one name— " So very sorry, just too late ! " — (i. Clifton Bingham.