VERSES OLD AND NEW.

Dominion, Volume 4, Issue 11110, 6 May 1911, Page 9

VERSES OLD AND NEW.

THE OPEN ROAD.- , Fine songs you'd bo hearing if you too] tho road with me, And tho wind would blow .you garland from the cloudy cherry tree, Sweet ways we'd bo treading where fh. thyme lies soft and close, Where the larch against your cheek, love dips its boughs all fring'd with rose Wide skies you'd bo seeing if you took th • road with me, Where tho mists stream by at morning lik wing'd shapes that seek tho sea. Where tho gold of quiet noontide's like th gorseland's honied haze, And the windless dusk's all- purple dowi the primrose-scented ways. True friends you'd bo finding if you tool ' tho road with me. Sweet birds to sing you heart's cheor furr'd folk v;ho wander free, Whose kind eyes give you welcome am . pray you take your ease, .Where violot-vein'd woodi-so-rrel's astii v/ith crooning beas. New life you'd be living if you'd take th ' iced with me, By mountainside and moortop, wher shadows race in glee, Where stress and strain slip by, love, a o'er the good green sod .We take the-' open, road, dear, the roa< ' that leads to God. Hancock, in London "News. , MYRTIS OF MYTILENE. There is a pink upon the almond tree, The sunlight is grown warm, the south west wind. Hakes a soft music in the soughing pines And where the blue seas break man gently now On all the shores of Hellas , it is spring. And yesterday I saw a swallow flash Across the azuro noon to wheel and droj To her old nest by the deserted door. 0 Myrtis, why wilt thou not also coine Back with tho spring to Jlytilene now? The pear tree in the garden is in bud, The vines once more are full of twitter ings, And in the woods the violets unfold. All these return, why not the only one That ever could enhance tho year's re birth? Hen buy and sell, folk gossip at theij . work, Children make noise at play, black ship: como in To the grey wharves; but whore thy beau teous head Was wont to pass is only empty air. W 7 ith silence where thy laughter used t< ring. ■Even the little street looks poor an , : mean , Thatussd to wear such glory. Loneliness Is heavy on the doorsill where last year The lightest feet in Lesbos came and went There is no welcome in the twilight now. —Bliss Carman in "The Forum." OUTWORN. 0 unassuageable thirst, O~ worldless hunger, And all that is the gray of dying hours, Dead things, that.wear the semblance of desires Long since betrayed and virginal no ionger, Palpitant with the futile lust of powers That once lit all the world with mourning fires! jNot as of did your tremulous whispering fingers, Autiimnnl poplars, move across my soul Southing it like white hands upon tho brow. ■ It is a bitter thing that memory lingers, It is a bitter thing- that seasons roll. But, Oh, most bitter the inexorable Now! .. . . . Not as of old, 0 'gray of dying hours, 0 green, 0 rose, 0 gold,;"that die to gray, .i- '■. , Not as of old are you, the ultimate glory, ■ .'.''■ Tho perfect bloom of light; rather sad flowers ■ .- ■ • : Languishing. for . their • lady torn away From her. fair garden in eome tragic story. Beneath unpitying clouds, over dull waters, Defeated flags, irreparably torn, Droop from the sad walls of the hollow West. Weary with strife are the sons of men, and the daughters Weary with passionate waiting, and outworn Is all the impulse rapture of the quest. .Gold, and the colour of rose, and the green of the world Only a mask to hide the ashen face Of rfp.-i.th. the master of Time's pageantry! 0 Beautiful Ones, a pitiless net is curled Under tho rushes, under the revel's pace: This night ends all, no dawn will ever be. . ( Dawn but a dream! And waking wo press once more Westward, upon the solitary path That leads through vistacd sunset into lllfjht: Hoping for peace, we meet our own doom of war; Loving, we bow before, some demon's wrath; Emptied of faith at last, emptied of might, We are gray phantoms of the dying Doomed things, wearily passing. 0 fair lace, • " Do you not bear one memory of the morn? ■* . What is tho light upon your brow, what tlnwsrs Bloom in your hand? I see tho ineffable p.raci? Of drnnping petals, of fading davs torlorn. as °' Shcc] ' in "z*w»