POETRY.
TO HIS LOST BELOVED, OH, little thing, oh, wondrous thing, Why did you slip so soft away ? Love touched us with his angel wing Once upon a day.
Love touched us and we were content To travel this great world and wide, Nought caring bow the hours were spent So we were side by side.
We had enough of toil, we two.
I worked to fill the cupboard shelf ; The hardest lot was left for you, To save the pence and spend yourself.
Diverse the laws of man and maid. He, suing humbly, taketh all ; She giveth gladly, unafraid, Until her strength is past recall.
Love spread his dove-grey wings of peace. Love, furl thy rose-lined wings of pain T. Great angel, Love, my anguish ease; Give me my little love again.
So human was she and so kind, So mother-like, so childlike too, I would not blot her from my mind As fools—or wise men—do.
I cannot blot her from my mind; I think of her by night and day, Yet she bath left a toy behind With which she used to play.
She held it close with arms of love; It lay so softly at her breast, Till Fate the eagle from above Swooped down upon the nest.
Oh, little love, one hapless morn Silent and swift you slipped away.
Now I am left, a thing forlorn, To face a world gone grey. W. J. CAMERON.
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