POETRY

Dunstan Times, Issue 2336, 18 June 1906, Page 3

POETRY

. THE DOGS AND THE RABBITS. A rabbit, much alarmed to see Two dogs approaching, turned to flee His enemies—for well be knows To rabbits dogs ore mortal foes. A comrade chanced the stir to hear, And asked the reason of his fear. * Reason f Look yonder!’ answered be ; ‘ The hounds are coming I don’t you see ?’ * Hounds ?’ said the other. ' Look again; They’re merely oars, *tis very plain 1’ * I ought to know the difference, sic, I think between a hound and our; 1 say they're hounds!’ . ‘I say they’re not!’ ‘Faith! one must be a stupid sot Who things so different confounds ; I’ll take my oath the dogs are hounds! ’ ‘By Jove I they’re ours—or I’m an ass 1’ And so they wrangle, when, alas! Ere they can settle their dispute, The dogs advancing in pursuit, Fall on them both, and make an end Of Mr. Rabbit and his friend! —Mans Twain. THE GROWING OF A SOUL. Bear ye this parable. A man Did plant a garden. Vine and tree Alike, in course of time, began To put forth fair and pleasantly. The rains of heaven, the persuading sun Came down alike on each and every one. Yet some trees wilful grew, and some Strong vines grew gayly in the sun, With gaudy leaves, that even come To naught. And yet, each flaunting one Did flourijh on triumphantly and glow Like sunset clouds in all their moving show. Bui lo ! the harvest found them not, The soul had perished from them. Mould And muck and leaf lay there to rot, Aud furnishment untold To patient tree aud lowly creeping vine That grew as grew the Husbandman’s design. Hoar then this lesson; hear and heed ; I say that chaff shall perish ; say Man’s soul is like unto a sood To grow into the Judgment Day, It grows and grows if ho will have it grow ; It perishes if ho must havo it so. Joaquin Millke. ■ ' ♦ ■—• NOW. If you have a kind word say it, Throbbing hearts soon sink to rest; If you owe a kindness, pay it, Life’s sun hurries to the West. Can you do a kind deed ?—do it, From despair a soul to save; Bless each day as you pass through it, Marching onward to the grave. If some grand thing for to-morrow You are dreaming, do it now ; From the future do npt borrow, Frost soon gathers on the brow. Speak thy word, perform thy duty, Night is coming, deep with rest; Stars will gleam in fadeless beauty, Grasses whisper o’er thy breast. Days for deeds are few, my brother, Then to-day fulfil thy vow ; If you mean to help another, Do not dream it—do it now. —Mauds Gbat. HAUNTED. One day ? alas, I lost my youth, I know not when or how; I only know I had it once, And cannot find it now. But sometimes iu the winter I feel it in the air, And when the snowflakes kiss my face It seems to touch me there. Then in the spring the breezes That wander from the South, With warm caressess laden, Seek youth upon my mouth. And, oh, the summer sunbeams That make the roses blush— They stir my blood and linger To bid my wan cheeks flush. My youth ? I lost it long ago, But of this fact I boast— It may be dead, but, surely, I Am haunted by its ghost.

—Edwaed Van Zxib.