Poetry.

Waikato Times, Volume XXXIII, Issue 2683, 21 September 1889, Page 1 (Supplement)

Poetry.

TO AN ANCIENT OAK

Erect in conscious pride, Thy old and stately form O'erlooks the waving woodland's side, Defying wind and storm.

Oft bast thou seen the light Break tlm newborn day And watched the shadows of the night Chase its faint gleams away.

Wbat changes there have been ; What joys, and hopes, and tears Have come—and passed away, unseen, Since thy long, youthful years !

On sunny summer days, How many here have strayed, And sheltered from tho sunshine's ray?, Beneath thy leafy shade !

Hmv many hearts have told Their love-tales by thy sidu ! What countless years have o'er thee rolled A flowing, ebbing tide !

And still, O time-worn tree ! Others will conic, and stay Boside they spreading trunk, when wo Shall all have passed away. —Harry Hill,

PITILESS POVERTY.

Many a year hath heathen darkness, Shut the light of God from men ; Many a year hath suff'rinpr manhood, Crouched in many a loathsome den ; Martyrs to our boasted progress, Crushed beneath its unnd'rous wheel, Nursed in hells of filth and fover, Bound to vice with chains of steel ! For our errors they are suff'ring, By the laws that man has made ; Cursed on earth for wealthy program, Doomed for sin to toil and fade ! Are they men, and are they women ? Have they souls to save for heaven ? Surely beasts would claim our pity— Helpless, toilincr, hunger driven ! Are they not our brothers, sisters, Weak and fallen tho' they be ? Can we leavo them to destruction ? May we rest tilt they are free? Can we stand 'fore Heaven's tribunal, And confess to nothing done ? Nothing done to raise the wretched ! Nothing done to free tho slave ! Can we face the Lord of Glory — Ho who died the world to .save? He has taught our hearts to pity, To the blessed, thus saith ho : " What ye've done for my powr children, Ye have done it unto Me." Pity leads us, but 'tis justice, Here required of you and me ; Do thou unto all thy neighbours, As thou wouldst have done to thee. Haste, then haste thn reign of justice, Bid God's kingdom come on earth, Join the fight for sutF'ring manhood, Storm the forts of crime and dearth. H.11.1L Cambridge West. FORGET-ME-NOT. A knight and lady walked along, So runs the legend old, He telling with persuasive tongue The tale so often told. They reached .1 river deep and wide, In which an islet lay, Forcing the stream on either side In foam to dash away. Across the stream she bent her view, And saw upon the beach ■Some pretty little flowers that grow, But far beyond her reach. To gratify the lady's whim, The knight leaped in the flood, And, though at risk of life and limb, Soon on the island stood. He plucked the flowers, and sprang once more Into the angry wave ; But ere he reached the friendly shore Met with a watery grave. But first he flung upon the land The flowers so dourly got; Then, to tho ludv waved his hand, And cried, " Forget-me-not!" And still that name these flowers depict In countries near and far ; 'Tho Germans £.:iy —" Vergiss moin nicht," The French—"No m'oublio pas." Nkmo.