A SUNSET REVERIE.

Waikato Times, Volume XXXVII, Issue 3034, 24 December 1891, Page 1 (Supplement)

A SUNSET REVERIE.

Then! is a holiness in <>ld a<sociation, A s.icrid lialo clinging round the p.i>t~ That p;i-t that seemed of littlo moment ;h thu prc-M.^nt, When Time's broad pinion* swept along HI! fa«t. Wo Hcm-jely felt their light breath unobtrusive, Nor in >iir hist'ning onward stopped to think That each event in ufterdays recurring In the great chain of memory would form u link. Oftime.s life seems ho full of fevereu stmceleK, Of busy strife in our allotted part, There is nr. time—no space for eself-cotnmu-nion, . And head and bauds cau yield small place to heart, Like some brief <l »y speeds each appointed Mar!:ed by its turn-point in the race of earth ; From rise to set of sun of each we labour. And heedless pa<s the line twixt death and birth. But, in the glorious reflection of the sunset, When backward falls caressingly each ling'ring ray, When cold and crimson Hood the hazy azure, And light with touch divine the sombre gray— , . So, memory with vivid fancy twining, Ir. some chanco hour of solitude brings back flKairi Voices and shadows long since dead and buried With all their whisperings of joy and pain.

Tis strange how lights zephyr wakes the lute-strings, lis Htringer still each answering chord should swell Ronponsive to the touch of introspection, Who trunrds " her own " so jealously and well: It may be but the murmur of the water? Tlm f ripple to the dipping of the oar, The soothing balm of moonlight softly Hingine Hpr silvery flood upon some lonely snoro — It may be in the sighing winds of Autumn, That restless roam 'mid russet leaves forlorn— It 11. attars not—Enough that soma faint echo Unto the human heart in these is borne ! It may be in the swell of dreamy music That bears n history in its refrain — Some soul-voiced singer who has dearly earned in sorrow, The wreath ot laurels crowning the pathos of her strain, Or yet., perchance, the fragrance of the roses That wakes within the breast a yearning wild Or yet hgain the uleeful siniln of rapture, That lights the features of a little child ! It matters not—Fund hearts and true and Iru.-tiug Aro broken in our midst, day after day, And deep devotion, sterling worth passed over. As ruthlessly misjuJged, or flung away ! 1 Ftad we but kuown'—Ah, sad, sad tears are falling O'er many a grave we fancied overgrown, The tomb of all that was, ere first we learnod the requiem, The unavailing cry " Had we but known !" Few souls can utterly unmoved, and calmly, The chequered volume of their lives review, With no regret to mar those virgin pages, No bitternesc of self roproach ! 0 happy Tow ! Wo " sigh for what is not!" 0 better, better It wer-i to live that in the days to come, No act of onrs could cloud with tears remorseful The silent summons sent to call the wanderer home! VITIAN TuKNTK. Mercer.