BOOKS AND AUTHORS.

Dominion, Volume 2, Issue 496, 1 May 1909, Page 11

BOOKS AND AUTHORS.

VERSES NEW AND OLD. BALLADE OP EIGHTEENTH-CKNTTJEY • LADIES. > * t la passionate dead dayß that iraro. lour loyal 1070T8 pledged you deep: . • Uoyally j find warmly fair, • • By taTenx firo, "on castled steep '■ whore worms of desolation : ; ' iTou were tho toasts, a gallant show, Ladie§, -too wonderful to.weop, .i-. ; How ye were loved once, long ago. , ■ .Your pictured eyes with , smiling staro Look from the dealers gilded heap .... With rose-crownod heads, and bosoms bareNow is-your full ,tide shrunk to n<?ap,.. No more you stiff brocade may sweep Your stately gardens-to and -White shepherdesses without sieop,. How ye wore loved once, long ago. . . .. Tour scented curls of shining hwr, . Gold as the corn grown full to reap, like'thistledown to the wido >ir . Are scattered; small men pour, and peep, , . And pry, and chatter, and make cheap _ 53i0 things you treasured; none, shall trow, | How your eyes made: men 8 hearts to leap, ; < How ye were loved , once, long ago. , L'Envoi. ladies,* yonr .■ boivutjv sunk in sleep, What shall'it profit ye to know, In the long silence that ye keep, How ye were loved once, long ago t ' ' .Ethel Talbot, in tiie "Spectator." THE CLUMP OP PINE. ■ - No wood in its autumn splendour- dressed. .. • Or itq summer lirido makes a show, so nne • As' yonder clump on -the far skr-lino, ■ .Where that forester bold the wind o tho west. Has left us a dozen of twisted pine. When the sun goes down on tho western hills ' And tho clouds above him their grey wings He •hanßs'on those branehes Mb shield of gold ■ .'And' the gleam of his spears that weird house As they search for the sorrow such walls ■ - might hold. ■: T lovo to climb from tho sheltered-farms_ And stand by the stems of those f windy trees With their low mysterious melodies And their mystio waving of. wild witch-arms, For the dearest friends in the world are ; tnese. ~ When my heart is heavy I cross the wold ■ !To the ragged clump on the far sky-lino, And I carry; beside mo thoso cares of_inine, ' As my carried tho thieves of old, And ihang them high .on a .twisted pine. • Will H. Ogilvie,'in thc"Glasgow Herald." ' TEC INQUEST. I Not labour kills us; no, nor joy;■ The incredulity and frown, The interference and annoy, _ ■ Tho email attritions wear-us flown. . The little gnat-liko buzzings shrill, , ' The'hurdy-gurdies of tho street, ' Tho common cursea of the will— ■ These wrap the cerements round our feet. And more than all, the look askance Of loving souls that'eannot gauge The numbing touoh'of circumstance, The heavy toll: of heritage. It js not Death, but Life that riays; ~ A The night less mormtainously lies. . ;vUpon our lids, than foolish dayffl Importunate futilities. -brands Money-Contts.