Poetry.

Waikato Times, Volume XXXII, Issue 2683, 8 June 1889, Page 5 (Supplement)

Poetry.

"WHERE I AVOTJLD DWELL. Not where the. ocean tells Its story to tho land, Anil tosses weed iintl shells Upon the glistening sand. Not where the river glides Out to tho waiting sea ; Its ebbing, flowing tides Are wearisome to me, Not only on the lonely hills, Or in the valley fair, Where gently inurmunno: rills Make music everywhere. But in tho city's breast, Where, even in tho niglit, Tho pulses nover rest, And quicken with tho light. Yes, where the mighty beat Throbs on unceasingly. And human tides run fleet To meet eternity. Where poverty an d wealth Like cloud and sunshine play. And go in pomp and stealth Along tho crowded way. Ah ! sea and vale and bills Have each a tale to tell. But tbo groat city's story thrills Me like a magic spell. —J. H. Syines. THE UNKNOWN DEAD. Somebody's dead —not mine, I ween, But somobody's loved, given over to dust; . Asleep, embalmed in the infinite trust That even tliedead shall wake again ; And over tho mounds the ivies twine, But I breathe with a prayer —not mine, not mine. Not. mine, not mino; and I turn aside— The lilies float white on tho placid stream, And tho golden sun with a mid-day gleam, Still burns like a flame in the glassy tide; There's buoyant life in tree and vine. Whilst the dead lie here —not mine, not mine. In the infinite rest tho grave can give ; No aching brains here rack with care, No hearts beat muflled in dumb de spair ; Sleep 011 ! I never could bid yo live ! Yet I look to tho hills, with their shade and shine, And cry to the winds—Thank God, not mine! —Ilollis W. Field.

LIFE AND PEACE, I looked into the country, Kut that was bleak and cold ; The leaves lay dead and scattered, The branches bare and old ; The winds swept on unheeding, And all the land lay waste ; The sun peeped out one moment Then hid itself in haste. "Not there, oh Heart !" t whispered, " Not there shall sorrow ccaso, Nor qnist steal upon thee With purifying peace I looked into the city, But that was full of strife ; The tramp and toll of business, The rush and race of life ; Fur to and fru, fur ever, The moving masses stirred, And ceaseless were the changes Of all the, sounds I he.ird. "Not there, oh Heart!" I whispered, '"Not there shall sorrow cease. And quite steal upon thee With purifying peace !" I {razed up at (he Heavens, There were no cloudlets there, Tile niocn looked down in pity. The stars shone, oh ! so fair! No sight of weary faces All stamped with Sorrow's seal, All o'er my tired spirit J felt a quiet steal. "Uptheie, oli Heart!" I whispered. " Up there will trouble cease ; lint not till in that Heaven May we know perfect pence." —M. !•'. Stewart