Poetry. ILL THINK OF THEE.

Waikato Times, Volume XXXII, Issue 2596, 2 March 1889, Page 1 (Supplement)

Poetry. ILL THINK OF THEE.

I'll think of thoe, when evening shades aro stealing On hazy cloud-wings wafted o'er the plain, When the wild night birds' vesper notes are pealing Bringing "Nepenthe" with the sweet refrain. I'll think of thee, when soft the sunlight lingers In golden glory on the purple hills; In fancy fool the clasp of thy dear fingers, And hear love's breathings in the rippling rills. I'll think of thee, when argent moonbeams streaming JMash through tho branches of the pine trees lull, And, as thoy glance, will see thy dark eyes beaming, And in sweet musings will thy face recall. I'll think of thee, when fast with whistling rleetness The night wiugeth softly overhead. As faint I scent the clogging honied sweetness On tho still air by gum tree blossoms shed. I'll think of thee, wherever I may wander, Till the night falls when my last sun has set, Distance shall make my yearning heart grow fonder; Through Life tu Death, love, I will not forgot. Qi'kunie. Ohaupo, February 11th, ISSi). THE INDIAN'S PRAYER The Indian maidens set little leaf-lamps afloat on tho Ganges, and watch them drifting down into the darkness. The longer tlio prayer laden vessel keeps its oil burning, the happier is the maid who launched it. Falls the evening o'er the forest, And the sun behind tho trees Tinges all the leaves with crimson, As they flutter in the breeze. Swiftly flows the sacred river. Darkling with tho growiug night; Fireflies flash across the water, Little streams of lustrous light. Through the tangled forest creeping, Comes a soft-eyed Indian maid, With a leaf-boat, that, fire-freighted, Sends a halo through the shade. Now upon tho sacred river Launches sho the little boat, And the wind and water playing, Hurry to the lamp afloat. Till the wavelets, lapping, lapping, Trickle o'er the ting leaf; Indian maiden, watching, watching, See, thy bark has como to grief. For the flickering gleam has vanished, Gone like spark in wintry air, Leaving on the river, darkness ; Leaving in thine oar despair. All the dreams thy young heart cherished, All the hopes thou lovedst so long. Shattered—for the sacred river Never gives its omens wrong. Morning dawns across the rivor, Bearing seaward on its breast, ; Here a leaf, and their, a maiden ; And the maiden is at rest. a. s. 1). I