The Smoker's Reverie.
Lighflj the whirls of smoke around me rise, Circling in ringlets till the room grows dim, And all things fade, while in my misty eyes Old memories swim. The voices that are dumb and laughter hashed, In many a buried day of years gone by, Ring oat ngain as if around me rushed The roar of revelry. Which surged so madly in that dear old town, When life beat quickly with a generous glow, In the old friends who wore the cap and gown Long years ago. Old friends ! oar lives have drifted with the tide Between us weary wastes of waters roll, And Alma Mater’s sons are scattered wide From Pole to Pole. Gently the twilight falls on a world of pain, The creamy cloud with sweet perfame ascends, And a voiceless peace on the weary brain Softly descends. Let visions vanish and the hand of time All dear remembrance from his tablets wipe. There still is sunshine in the southern climo— I’ve got my pipe. Remittance-man.
Bank of New Zealand Produce Circular.
