POETRY.

Evening Post, Volume LXVI, Issue 136, 5 December 1903, Page 11

POETRY.

A SEA LYRIC. There is no music that man has heatd Like the voice of the minstrel Sea, Whoso major and minor choids are fraught With infinite mvstery — For the Sea is a harp, und the winds of God Play over his rhythmic breast, And bear on. the sweep of their mighty wings The song of a vast unrest. There is no passion that man has sung, Like the love of the deep-souled Sea, Whose tide responds to the Moon's soft light With marvellous melody — For the Sea is a^harp, and the winds of God Play over his rhythmic breast, And bear on the sweep of their mighty wings The song of a vast unrest. There is no sorrow that man has known, Like the grief of tho worldless M*{v, Whose Titan bosom forever throbs With an untranslated pain — . For the Sea is a harp, and the winds of God Play over his rhythmic breast, And bear on the sweep of their mlglity wings • The song of a vast unrest. — William Hamilton Hoyne, in Atlantic Monthly. ' THB LOST GALLEON. Her decks are drowned in sea-wrack, her guns are sunk in sand, ' Where- she lies in the still water, hard by the Irish strand ; There »re dead in her gilded oabins, thero are white bones in her hold. With the coders rotting plank from plank, brimming o'er with gold. 'Broad o1o 1 the boam they built her, that they might load her deep, They sowed a goodly harvest for the fierce salt seas to. reap, They freighted her with morchandiie, with gold they weighted her well/ Ero they steered slowly to her bourno their castled citadel. God rest their souls where they lie low, where she awirled down of yore ■ With chanting priost and shrieking slave, a stone's throw from the shore 1 Nor all their piled-up ingots, nor all their ■ gold could saye — Under the cliff together, the Don and the chained slave. Far o'er the grey-green waters goes sound of gull and gale ; White caps are on the breakers and the sun on a patched sail ; But she lies lost and mouldered, with her captains swart and bold Dead in her gilded oabins, and weighted down with gold. 0. Fox Smith, in tho London Outlook. "SALTING" THE DESERT SANDB. . A Connecticut firm (according to a New York contemporary) manufactures sacred scarabei for the Egyptian tourist trade. The little charms ay© carved and even chipped by machinery, coloured in bulk to simulate age, and shipped in casks. Tho Arabian euides are the chief buyers, many of them being adepts at " salting " the sands at the base of the pyramids, where they artfully discover these scarabei before the very eyes of the Yankee tourist, and sell him for a dollar an article manufactured at a cost of less than a cent, perhaps * within a stone's throw of his own homo. The Government have decided to make on allowance of £1 per week to the widow and children of the late Thomas Batty, of Marlborough. Somo of tho white-pine trees in the Motu Forest, Poverty Bay, are 25ft in circumference, with a bole of 60ft.