NEW ZEALAND VERSE.

Auckland Star, Volume LX, Issue 224, 21 September 1929, Page 17 (Supplement)

NEW ZEALAND VERSE.

SONGS OF VARIED MOODS. WIND AMD TREE. The tall pines sing with swaying spars, And boughs that bound against the blue; And darkly, to the musing stars. They chant, the whole night through. Only the 'cellos of the trees May lend the wind so sweet a voice, And only winds as bold as these May bid the trees rejoice' And sad were I. if this brave song, No more might cheer my lonely moods With music, swelling all day long Among the windy woods. —NELLIE MACLEOD, Christchurch. SANCTUARY. When day's uneasy round !s done. And heavy birds have found their nest, Eve's silent comforting is blest. Now all the dim and lonely West Mourns the lest, splendour of the suti, Eve is a grey-enshrouded nun. Most pitiful her benison . . . Her gentle touch, it bringetb rest, The day's long ardours Vail confcst. The heart that aches beneath the jest, The voice that breaks amid-the fun. Her still peace healeth them each one. So, when the tired day is done, Eve's eyes are quick to pity, lest Sweet hope should faiut in any breast. —SHIRLEY BARTON, Auckland. DAYS THAT WE KNOW. Some days there are That silhouette their loveliness Upon the deep recesses Of the heart. Days that are born Of radiant, half-forgotten dreams; Or vivid notes. Or"skimming birds; Blue-green water of mountain lake, Or blossom on a cherry tree. Days that are lapis-lazull Like skies above tall cypresses. Yes, you have known such days as these And held them like some secret, close. But do you know Dear God, the days That waken in a loved one's eyest —L. C. LESLEY HOUSE. Christchurch. THE HILLTOP. Breathless, we reached the top. Beyond the hill ' The fabulous Pacific lurked, unruffled; And slieplierdless, the lazy . smoke had muffled Our city far behind us. We fell still And never till that moment noticed these: Crickets ; a bell; cock to far cock repea ting; Three larks ill paean, and the hill-sheep bleating, And the city like the roar of distant seas. So halts the old dogmatist one day and hears A little bell of doubt, and stops his cars; Or some grey labourer becomes aware Of triumphs faintly Tinging down the air: But youth fal.s still, to find this wondrous thing: That in his heart a lark is carolling. A. W. RUSSELL. Bay of Islands. PULL MOON. The river flowed silently through the small town, It carried the flow of the moon on its : .. I—east; The plumes of slim rushes rose silverly high, Unstirred and unshaken —but birds in a nest Turned softly and sleepily as I passed by. The mountains were locked in a long silver swoon, The small silver houses blinked big silver eyes, In the little town with the flower, of the moon , Abtoom on its river. I stole quietly Through the moon-encbanted, remote village street. A startled dog barked, wakened from his short sleep— By echoes of my eager, homeward bound feet. —IVY GIBBS, Auckland. PAGAN PBAYEIs. The skies are wide and beautiful, The stars are strong— Orion, belted like a warrior, Magnificent and young, And the shining Cross that shrives the Southern Ocean All night long. Here where..the starlit seas of darkness, Wave on cresting wave, Break on the world, and the cold, deep, desolate night Foreshadows the grave, Siin and moon are blind, only the resolute stars Are strong to save. 0 Lord of the firmament, 0 Warrior-god, Orion, serene and bright, Lead me through the dark aritf across the years Till my soul's swift flight Shall end wlifere the stars and the sun are gathered at last In ultimate night.—A. R. D. FAIEBUBX. Auckland. RELEASE. s . An aeroplane hangs droning in the sky, Droning romance .... And I Am ironing in n - y '.;itchen, small and hot 1 set A red geranium in a dark blue pot, And have been glad of it throughout the day ; But I forget Its steadfast beauty when I gaze and see This silver thing, that, like a dragonfly, Vibrant and free, Hangs droning in the deep bowl of the sky. And for a moment I am soaring free. As though Death, on a shining, glad, resistless sea, Swept me beyond the world's small misty rim ; In ecstacy. Life is no more a prison of the heart, A gaoler grim. Of pverwilllng hands and tired feet, Toiling till age comes shadowy and dim.... Death is release From years grown grey with pain,

With beauty, like a great bird's brooding wins Enveloping The aeroplane , Drops to the waiting earth, and I am left, Ironing in my kitchen, small and hot, Of joy bereft. Save for a red bloom in a dull blue pot. —ISHBEL VKITCH. Wanganui. BEREAVEMENT. All shattered is the harmony of iifc Since you are gone: The music of the day is stilled, And jarring chords replace My former joyous songs. I am alone.' Under a canopy of flowers, with flowers Around, you lay In Death's sad dignity. I watched i'ou borne from out my sight. Bowed heads ! Soft-moving wheels I am alone! The rains stream down! On your deserted grave— Their tints so delicate All stained to brown — Winds buLet wreath and cross, and all the ! finery That made so proud a mound. I am alone! You lie there, underneath the skies. The -winds may thrust, the sun beat down. ! .So still, so cold, you know not joy nor loss, j Give uo response to my sad grief. i Heed not wild words of my despajr. I am alone! - At niglit the rhythm in the trees Of trembling bough and leaves Becomes a plaintive moan, a sigh. . •* I wake and listen,, strive to hear your voice! Only my tears flow down. ; I am alone I v ;• • - ' ■. —HILDA KEANE. . Auckland. v.