Poetry.

Waikato Times, Volume XXX, Issue 2489, 23 June 1888, Page 1 (Supplement)

Poetry.

MISJUDGED.

Misjudged ! misjudged, ah ! must it ever bo Throughout all time—until eternity Makes all things plain ? Must this be so. Tho' days depart, and long years come and go ! Is it God's will in this world ne'er to raise The gloomy curtain, or remove the haze That Truth and Justice in obscurity conceal, And only Falsehood's mocking face reveals.

Will no kind hand close o'er the black abyss, That robs my life of ov'ry happiness ? Will no sweet solace ever lull to rest, Tho wild, wild storms that rage in my breast, Will no (jlad sunshine ever penetrate The soul's dark gloom that bows to ruthless fate E'en while within, a strange tumultuous flow Of deep emotion surges, as below. The calm still Burface of the summer sea, Some whirling vortex eddys ceaselessly ; Hold an unwilling captive, sighing to be free, Enthralled by Honour's strong captivity, Holding within my hand the golden key, Yet Bealod for ages,'.these lips of mine must be, While still my soul cries out, Oh God, how long Till I shall learn to '• suffer and be strong. Beneath a cloud 1 live my daily life ; A strange existence filled with weary strife ; To seem what I am not —a hated mask to wear Lefore the world ! Alas, what actor e'er In all this sad life's weary pantomime Flayed role more irksom*, and gave not one sign, Save when alone—alone with dark despair My soul goes upward in one yearning pray'r.

One wild, beseeching, passionate appeal, To Him who truly can for sorrow feel. And whosoever yet has asked in vain ? For, even thro' the bitterness and pain Is wafte J to my tired, sick soul a thought, With gentle peace and cheering solace fraught, E'en as the zephyrs sweetest perfume bear, That steep in fragrance all the trem'bling air.

So comes the hope that at some distant day, The inißts of doubt may vanish quite away ; And Truth's bright rays may yet erase the gloom, E'en though, perchance the silence of the tomb May long have called me to unbroken rest Where Right and Wrong alike are manifest. Tho' lonf for me tho j.oya of Earth have flown, And never here shall one kind word atone.

For these dark hours of undeserved mistrust, Till thi>i poor frame shall bo but mould'ring dust. What would you not give one day when too late, Too late, my doar one, to obliterate The shade that hovered o'er my life so long, What would you not give to undo the wrong, You do me daily, in your ev'ry thought, The wrong by Envy and by Malice wrought ?

Then you may know I loved you to the last That I was true and faithful to the Fast! The Past!—Oh God, that human constancy So frail, so faithless, and so false should be, To think so soon, belief and love have fled Before the shaft malicious tongues have spod ! Bo still, oh bursting heart, nor thus rebel, Each surging torrent bravely strive to quell ! What, after all, holds Mother Earth but pain 1 That happiest life would but be lived in vain, Did not the "Golden Promise " ever shine Upon our way to guide us to a world divine! Some day from bondage you shall find release Shall enter in, unto those realms of Peace, When souls long severed once again inay meet, In one bright Springtime of Re-union sweet. V . Cambridge, June 11th, 1888.

» CLEAR THE WAY." The city lies in hushed repose, The wintry night wind freshly blows, As if to rock the cradled host In slumber's sweet oblivion lost. But hark ! a sound, and lo ! a sight That wakes the town in dsad of night. A shriek and a glare, A cry of despair At the flames in their ire. For the one word is " Fire 1" The people rush out, And, with hurry and shout, Press on to the light As it brightens the light. And spreads like a banner unfurled up on high, A sign and a terror against the dark sky ! But hark to the clatter, than music more sweet, Of t&» rolling wheels and tho horses' feet! " Out of the way—out of the way ! They come to save—now clear the way!" A sea of faces upward turned, •One fear by every heart inurned ; By ruddy light is clearly read On every brow the anxious dread. A mother 'mid the bright light stands, Her neck tight clasped by baby hands, And through roar and hiss Not quite they miss Her piteous frenzied cry ; But mounting quick on bigh A hero springs, His helm a star Mid the lurid light, For a moment lost, then dimly seen As it gleams oil the sight. The curling wreaths of sii.oku botween ! Up the ladder One rushed, but Three come down, And tho shining helm is a hero's crown ! Yet heeds not he what people say, He only bids them " Clear the way !" —CAMILIA CItOSLANI).