Poetry.

Waikato Times, Volume XXXI, Issue 2546, 3 November 1888, Page 1 (Supplement)

Poetry.

THE HEEMIT

Tim following verses were written in the last century by Jamt's Heattie, son of a small farmer at Laurencekirk, In Kincardineshire. ISeing appointed schoolmaster of the picturesquely-situ-ated parish of Fordoun. lieattie, who had shown poetical talent while a lioy, had now ample opportunity for developing it, the result of which was composed many pieces—such as ttie " Minstrel "—of very high merit.

At the close of the day, when the hamlet is still, And mortals the sweets of forgetfulnees prove, . When nought but the torrent is heard on the hill, And nought but the nightingales song in the grove ; 'Twas thus, by the cave of the mountain afar, Whilo his harp rung symphonions, a hermit bc^tin; Wo more with himself or with Nature at war, He thought as a sage, though no felt as a man.

" Ah ! why, all abandoned to darkness and woe, . . Why, lone Philomola, that languishing fain For spring shall return, and a lover bestow, And sorrow no longer thy bosom enthral; But if pity inspire thee, renew the sad lay ; Mourn, sweetest complainer, man calls thee to mourn; . , • 0 soothe him, whoso pleasures like thine pass away : Full quickly they pass—but they never return.

" Now gliding remote on the vergo of the The moon half extinguished her crescent displays ; But lately I marked, when majestic on high She shone, and the planets were lost in her blaze. Roll on, thou fair orb, and with gladness pursue The path that conducts thee to splendour again ; But man's faded glory what change shall renew ? Ah, fool ! to exult in a glory so vain 1

" Tis night, and the landscape is lovely no

more; I mourn, but, ya woodlands, I mourn not for you; For morn is approaching, your charms to restore, Perfumed with fresh fragrance, and glittering with dew. Nor yet for the ravage of wintor I mourn ; Kind Nature the embryo blossom will save. But when shall spring visit the mouldering nrn ' Oil, when shall it dawn on the night of the grave! "'Twas thus, by the glara of false science betrayed, That leads, to bewilder; and dazzles, to blind ; My thoughts went to roam, from shade onward to shade, Destruction before me, and sorrow behind. ' 0 pity, great Father of Light,' then I cried, 'Thy creature, who fain would not wander from thee; Lo, humbled in dust, I relinquish my pride; From doubt and from darkness thou only canst free!' "And darkness and doubt are now flying away; No longer I roam in conjecture forlorn. So breaks on the traveller, faint, and astray, The bright and the balmy effulgence of morn. See Truth, Love, and Mercy, in triumph descending, And Nature all glowing in Edens first bloom ! On the cold cheek of death smiles and roses are blending, And beauty immortals awakes from the tomb."

BLOWING BUBBLES,

Bubbles burst ? Ah ! well, never cry, We'll bear it bravely—you and I. To oldor folks such things befall, Bubbles will burst for ono and all.

A beauty was it, my little maid, In jasper, emerald and gold array'd ! You toss'd it lightly in the air— It burst, and lo ! what had you there? Only Boap-suds—ah ! well-a-day, Yours was but pastime, only play ; Other bubbles you'll blow to-morrow, Then I'd not cry in so much sorrow. List, wee maiden, listen to ir.e, I'll whisper thee of tho days to be ; Bubbles iu lifo will burst and go, Beautiful things, and rare, you know. But only bubbles, just to burst, Bubbles belov'd, and that's the worst —■ Pleasure's bubbles, bubbles of faino, Of this, and that, but all tho same. Roseate tinted, beauty fraught. Only soap-suds, things of naught; Then, child, you'll learn to grasp the true A lesson this for me and for you. —" Little Folks " for September.