VERSES OLD AND NEW.

Dominion, Volume 3, Issue 828, 28 May 1910, Page 9

VERSES OLD AND NEW.

MISE FEIN. .- Everything that I can spy Through the. circle of my eye: Everything that I can fee Has been woven out of rue. I have sown tlio stars,'and throw Clouds of morning and of cvo Up into the vacant blue. Everything that I perceive, v Sun and sea ami mountain high, All aro moulded by my eye; Closing which, what shall I find? Darkness, and a little 'wind. —James Stephens, in the "Nation." THE ENTHUSIAST. - E3s face is glorious with a beam Unborrowed from our earthly skies; The radiance of a heavenly 1 dream Is on his brow and in his eyes; !And in his breast the unconquered heart That fails not when his brethren fail, Shot sees his earliest friends depart One after one, and doth not quail. One after one they go, the bold Companions of his dwindling band; For under stormy skies and cold Their march is, through a barren land. (And some their earlier faith dorido

(For man is man and seeks his own), Till the last straggler leaves his side, And the worn pilgrim walks alone. Leopard and leopard-hearted men . About Ms perilous pathway prowl; At even from his mountain don Comes the grey wolfs resounding howl. The heavy hauberk's shining mail Is on his weary shoulders laid, !A helmet shields his forehead pale, Gleams in his hand tho naked blade. But o'er the desorf s quivering lines He sees the city from afar. By day; a polished pearl it shines. By night it glitters like a star. He doth not feel his bleeding feet, And whon his nightly tent is-spread, Iho pavement of the golden street ; Re-echoes to his dreaming tread. / CKII_ his thin, shadowed temples tell His livelong journey well-nigh done, ind 'neath the rock-hewn citadel He drags himself at set of. sun. (There, while he lingers, half in donbt, The bells a joyous chime begin, 'And lo! three shining ones come out, And lead the weary traveller in. ' Edward Sydney Tylee, in the "Spectator."

THE TETJE WOMAN. ' ' Make not an idol of Her: that way lies Sorrow, and disillusion, and regret; . Tor though in part divine, She is not yet !A goddess of unfathomed mysteries, Nor yet all Angel, nor so overwiso But that temptation lures Her; She hath met Despair, known yearnings;' on the same road set 'As at your feet, she strives, she laughs, she cries. But when life wounds, and when to live ' is good, The sorrow halved, the joy of man and woman Together shared, shall, all your Heaven be. ,_ • ■ .. Ah! cherish Her essential womanhood, Make not an idol of Her, She is human, But love Her for Her dear humanity. E. C. T„ in the "Westminster Gazette." HECATE.

Mine eyes have seen the veiled bride of the night, . . Before whose footsteps souls of men are blown, As are dead leaves, about the wind's snift feet. .Wherefore great sorrow conieth through my song: A wind of grieving, through the branches wet, When all the alleys of the woods are lit .With yellow leaves, and sere, and full of , sighs.

Through the bare woods she came, aHd pools of light Were darkened at her coming; and a moan " Broke from the shuddering boughs, and . all the fleet Leaves whirled about her passage, with the throng Of her lamenting ghosts, whr> cried regret, And passed as softly as the bats, that Hit Down silent ways, beneath the clouded skies.

Wherefore I griev«, that no more in my sight • Are moTtal women lovely. I am grown Amorous of her lips with kisses sweet, For her deep eyes in their enchantment

strong. Tea! I am wasted with my passion's fret: Restless, that my poor worship may not quit ' The pure light of her face, which made mo vise.

Great peace she hath, and dreams for her . delight, "Wherewith she weaves, upon the looms of stone,' ' . . Choosing such colours as she deemeth meet. Gold, blue, and vermil skeins; and there among Her spools of weaving threads, her dreams ■ beget. Life, from her nimble fingers and quick wit, Mirrored in mortal life, which fades and dies.

These are made 7!aolc, and perfect, in 'the bright Broideries of her hands, while by her throne Move unborn hours, which. in her cave discrete She hideth, though her secret thoughts prolong Soft. moments mortal hearts so soon forget, Bright, supple forms, with swift limbs strongly knit, Moving as light in dance as melodies.

Wherefore, though in tho cold. I wail aiy plight And' wander, through the hoary woods, alone, Hunted, and smitten, of the wind, and sleet, Among thesa rooted souls, I would not wrong The intense white flam© of beauty mine eyes met And married for a moment: in this pit My blinded soul feeds on her memories.

Go, thou my song! Tell her, though weeping, yet Hot face is mine: such joy have I in it, I cannot shut the splendour from mine eyes. •-Frederic Manning, in the "Spectator."