CURRENT VERSE.

Auckland Star, Volume LVI, Issue 85, 11 April 1925, Page 17

CURRENT VERSE.

VENUS BEFORE HER MIRROR— 1925. To bob, or not to bob, that Iβ the quesWhether 'tis nobler In the maid to suffer The slings and arrows of enraging hairpins; Or to take shears against a head of troubles, And, by exposing, end them? To crop— to lose— No more; and by the crop to cay we end The headache, and the thousand natural shocks Of wash with hair, too; 'tis a transformation Devoutly to be wlsh'd. To crop—to lose— To lose! perchance, to grieve—ay, there's the sob; For in that loss of locks what griefs may come. When we have scissor'd off this mortal coll, Must give ns pause; there's the aspect That makes calamity of co long curls; For who would bear the plaits and pads of time, The flapper's sneer, the surfer's contumely, The indolence of mothers, and tqe spurns That patient merit of th , unworthy takes, When she herself might her quietus make With a bare cleaver? . Who would long hair wear. To grunt and sweat under a weary load, But that the dread of something after shears, That man-forsaken country, from whose bourn No virago returns—puzzles the will; And makes ns rather bear those bills we - have. Than -fly to others that we know not Thus prudence does make cowards of m> many; And thus the native bne of revolution Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought; And enterprises of great clip and mowment, With this regard, their scissors turn awry, And lose the name of fashion. —A.G.S. IN THE WHISPERING GALLERY. St. Paul's! Your dome is tumbling down. (Hark ! Whispers in the gallery.) The news has spread through London town (The ghosts are weeping bitterly). But we shall build it up again (Voices in the gallery!) All will work with might and main (The ghosts are singing nappnyj. Silver and gold we'll store away (Rejoicing in the pU'W ! > Then there'll be eno»*b to JW To do the work quite rapimy. Rniid it ud with wood and lead (Two hundred years has Wren slept If iroiTaid steel we use instead Who would go to Wren to tell? Wren will know whate'er we do, in the gallery he walks; WheD St. Paul's rings out " One-two," With the Echoes then he talks. " Tell mc, Echoes," he doth cry, " Can I trust my England's heart— I. who never had to die. Being of St. Paul's a part? Will they build the dome with care?" " Yes, they will," the Echoes say; Through the dome creeps Dawn most fair— Wren and Echoes slip away ! By WILHKLMINA STITCH. Friday, January Iβ, 1925. From tt» "DaUr Graphic , * v,