Poetry.

Waikato Times, Volume XXXIII, Issue 2713, 30 November 1889, Page 5 (Supplement)

Poetry.

HEIRS OF TIME. I'Vorn street and sqnaro, from bill and (?len Ot thia vast world beyond my door I hear tho tread of marching men, The patient armies of the poor. The halo of the city's lamps . Hangs—a vast torchlight—in the air; T watch it. through tho ovemiiff dumps : Thn majors of thn world are there. Not ermine clad or clothed in state, Their title deeds not yet made plain ; But waking early, toiling late, The heirs of all the earth remain. Some day, by laws aa fixed and fair As guide the planets in their sweep, The children of each outcast heir The harvest fruits of time shall reap. The peasant brain ahall yet be n-Ue, The untamed pulse grow calm and still, The blind shall see, tho lowly rise. And work in peace T-.mes wondrous will. Seme day, without a trumpet's call, Thia news will o'er tho world be blown— " The heritage comes buck to all ! The myriad monarcha take their own ! —Colonel T. W. Higginson, in the Nationalist.

ONLY A LITTLE WAY.

A little way—l know it is not far To that denr home where ray beloved are. And yet my faith grows weaker as 1 stand A poor, lone pilf rim in a dreary land, Where present pain the future bliss ob-

seurea, And still my heart aits, like a bird upon The empty nest, and mourns its treasures gone ; Plumed for their flight, And vanished quite. Ah ! me, where is the comfort—though 1

eay They have but journeyed on a little way ?

A little way—at times they seem so near, Their voices ever murmur at my ear ; To all my duties loving presence lend, And with sweet ministry my eteps attend And bring my soul the luxury ot tears, 'Twas hero we met and parted company ; Why should their gain be such a grief to me? This scene of loss ! Thou heavy cross ! Dear Saviour, take the burden off, I pray, And show me heavon is hut—a little way, These Bombre robes, these saddened faces, all The bitterness and pain of death recall. Ah ! let me turn my face where'er I may, I see the traces of a sure decay ; And parting takes the marrow out of life. Secure in bliss, we hold the golden chain Which death, with scarse a warning, snaps in twain, And never more Shall time restore The broken links. 'Twas only yesterday They vanished from our sight—a little way. A little way ! This sentence I repeat, Hoping and longing to extract some sweet To mingle with the bitter. From thy hand I take the cup I cannot understand, And in my weakness give myself to thee, x\lthough it seems so very, very far, To that dear home whore my beloved are, I know, I know It is not so. Oh ! give mo faith to feel it when 1 say That they are gone—gone but a little way.

BETWEEN THE LIGHTS,

Ere the westward fires have faded, While the distant hills yet glow With the sun's last benediction, Where he lingers loath to go ; While the birds are homeward flying Ere the dnrk their way benights, And the vesper bells am ringing, Comes the hour between the lights Ah. the mem'ries dear and holy, Bright and tonnVr, that combine In life , :; after hours, its moments, In our heart of hearts to shrine ! For our sweet drcuiie conio to us, While the dnylipht. slowly dies, And our sweetest words are uttered 'Neath the purple gloaming skies. Blithesome lads, nml bonnie lasses, How I hope and pray for you, Only mem'ries bright and holy. Only joys deep, pure and true, May be yours while vesper glory Falling night with day unites, Only happy thoughts to hallow The dear hour " between the lights." —Helen Marion Burnside, in " The Argosy.".