CURRENT WAR POETRY.

Auckland Star, Volume XLIX, Issue 71, 23 March 1918, Page 13

CURRENT WAR POETRY.

• TO THE MEN AT HOME. I The following spirited appeal to meat home to come to the aid of the soldiers with their money should prove' a useful agent In promoting "investment In "National War Bonds.] - v Thus wise shouted the men at war to. the. men that bought and,sold: "We have played our -t»art and have kept your matt; come ye.and send yonr gold. For the shrapnel shell falls cruel thick, the machine-gun rakes us through, And. we who drench In the dripping trench call-out for aid to you. •■■••» " Te have sat secure through the wrench'ot • war, and have slept full soft at night;" Ye have plied your trade/and the cash you made—let It do its bit In the fightIn the bitty fight that flows and ebbs and araws not near to an end, ' While ye are not told to give your gold but besought that ye shall lend; i " Lend for the guns that clear our way through the spiked and tangled wire "When it's hand to hand in No Man's Laud In the bail of German Are, ' To fill the ranks of .the grey-grim Tanks and the spotting aeroplanes,' ' < And stiffen the mlght-of your country's ■ fight In the mud of the Flanders rains." Q homing posts, take up the tale and spread it wide nnd far . That the trader's gains and. the farmer's wains may feed the ranks of war; That wealth may stand with- pride unbent I in the day of war's surcease, And the men who lent be well content with the fight they made for Peace. ' ■i. •';"."■ Thomas Russell.

THE -.ONE HAND.

She took her tide and she passed the Bar with the first o' the morning light; She dipped her flag to the coast patrol at the coming down of the night; She has left the lights of the friendly shore 1 and the smell of the English land, And she's somewhere South o' the Fastnet now— _■'"_.'•_ God help her . . . South o' the Fastnet now. Playing her own lone hand. She is ugly and squat as a ship can be, she was new when the Ark was new, 3ut she takes her chance and she runs her risk as well as the best may do; And it's little 6he heeds the lurking death and little she gets of fame, Out yonder South o' the Fastnet now— God help her . . . South o' the Fastnet now, Playing her own lone game.. She has played it once, she has played it twice, she has played it times, a score; Her luck and her pluck are the two trump cards that, have won her the game before: And life is the stake where the tin fish run and Death is the dealer's name, Out yonder South o' the Fastnet now— God help her . . . South o' the Fastnet now. Playing her own lone game. —C.F.S., in "Punch." I