NEW ZEALAND VERSE.

Auckland Star, Volume LIX, Issue 141, 16 June 1928, Page 8 (Supplement)

NEW ZEALAND VERSE.

HEARD THROUGH A CITY WINDOW. I'au : My poet, who liath caged you thus? Poor singing fool, whose songs were made Of sea and storm and sun-swept hill, And wild birds crying unafraid. But brightest dreams must tarnish her© And dusty grow, and old; For no poor poet dares to dream Whose days are bought and sold* Poet: Yet is the evening still and sweet, And evening skies are calm ajid kind; Thfy drop the veils of darkness down. And shut the long day out of mind. What though the coward morning bring The shadow of the bars All, see, the night is at my feet. And I am crowned with stars! —SHIRLEY BARTON. Auckland.

RANGITOTO.

What subtle fancy, what phantastic whim, Led Nature to conceive within her breast, That symmetry of line which forms the rim Of silent Rangitoto's lofty crest? Since that dim time when, from the molten forge, That men have called Creation, she arose, No eye has ever quailed to see her gorge, And wake iu thunder from her culm repose. But. like the faithful Nubian who sleeps Bofore his master's door, so does she lie Before the harbour mouth, and ever keeps ller vigil . While the sea birds shriek and cry.. With threshing wings around her, and the tides For ever lap about her sea-girt sides. Auckland. —A.H.

AUTUMN PIECE.

The trees stand by the river I-ike ghosts of long-dead girls. Withered are the garlands And all the curls. <ioiie is their coloured mesh Of loveliness, no leaf falls: Winter has scattered their flesh And their pretty faces are skulls. O men, why mourn ye the dead And seal them in quiet tomb"? Kartli the eternal mother wears No sorrow, sheds 110 tears For (lie children of her wonib: And if there comes a whisper of grief, Anil a thin music shaking The brittle bones of the )».plar tree. It is no dirge of a mother's making', But only the wind's sigh. —A. It. D. FAIRDURN, Auckland.

CHOICE.

To each his choosing; may life be this for me. Wide, as the seas are wide, and full of t !i" wonder and mystery of great waters. Free, as are Fnglish downlands, and the low rolling hills. Clean, as the winds that wash them. Vital, as men are vital, that I may know exultation. Vivid, as women are vivid, that I may know pain. Full, as a homing galleon. —JEAN KESSLER, England (visiting New Zealand).