VARIOUS VERSE.

Evening Post, Volume LXXIII, Issue 117, 18 May 1907, Page 13

VARIOUS VERSE.

THROUGH A OHILD'S EYES. (For the Pott). Quaint and grim •and weird and twisted, Danco queer shadows on the wall} In "tho just beforo our tea-time" When thore »ro no lights at tIL That it, 'ceptin' for tho firelight And tho littlo pink-blue flames As they wrigglo. joggle, jigglo, Just like childron playing gamei. Mother's rocking-chair will curtsy Half advance and half retire, Ah the tablo logs n-jigging Bend and bow, grotesquo and bart. Then tho pla*ter-p*.ris ehopherd, And his shepherdess and fheop, Join tho tables and tho sofas, Dance and twist and turn and peep. All tho while tho firc-irots, loaning On their fonder balcony, Sway and move, like bows and fiddlci, Making pilent melody. So I vratoh them bow and curt6y, Shadows queer, of every ehapo, Underneath tho trembling festoon Of the tasieled in&nteldrape. Then I turn and see my ohadow Danqiug, too, upon the wall! Springing up I join the frolic, Faster, faster than thorn all. Flinging armi and legs out madly, Up and down tho loom I go, Cake-walk, sohottischc, polka, galop— Always fast and never slow. Suddenly the door stands open : With her hand upon the knob Mother's there, nor asks mo why I Run to her with one big sob ; Never eajE — "Why,- littlo silly, You are frightened, I declare!" Holds mo tight aud turns the light ODj And the shadows" disappear, —Ada A. R< Ludford. Wellington. THE GOLDEN BOOK OF MARCUS AURELITJS. Marcus, ilnce thou didst live thr day, The world has aged millennial years, But still thy golden book can aav Its message to our listening ears. Writ in thy tent beforo the foe^ — Thoso Marchmen from whoso loins we spring — Its page 3 catch tho ■watohfire'ii glow, \Vith tramp of armod men they ring, Thoy tell us each man's, lifo on oarth, Whether ho bo a king or slave, Is but a warfare from his birth Down to tho silence ol tho grave. They teach us how to ioi- and hato Th 6 faults that iro alono csn ken, And in kind ruth oxtenunto Tho failings of Our follow men. Thoy show us how the wise man stand* Abovo tho loud world's stress and strife, And holds in hia own ample hand* The master keys of fato and life. 0 soldier, 6tateeman, stoic, king, 'iho flower and crown of heathenesse, From thy deep thoughts what oehoos ring Of Eolacc, strength, and iaintliness? For ue, who follow that high codo Which thou in ignorance did ban, Thou, from whose lips truo wisdom flowed, As from thy lifo puro lovo to man! —Reginald Hayncs. Tho Spectator. ■WITHOUT THE GATE. Tho windows above aro blazing, Tho c»bs at tho curbstono wait, And I linger ono wistful moment like Peri without the gate. Linger and think of you, Lucy, In the days ere our fight was won, Of my ehy, little dimpled sweetheart, In tho land of tho sinking sun. And tho crowd i 3 surging past me, 'Iho crowd of * hospital ball, As I wait in 4 ehadowed corner On tho steps of tho big town hall. With tho all-night cars a-rattle, And the ringing hoofs on the blocks, The chatter pt high-toned voices That a heart mauigent mocks. The diamond* on taper ftcgera, Tho sheen of the silk and pearls, The matrons lapped in their velvet, And the ribbont of laughing girls. And one— she wa» like you, Lucy, With your big, brown, timorous eyes; Like a. hare that has crouched to cover, In a tremor of wild surpriie.' And I thought of out old-time homestead, By tho belt of acacia trees, Of tho woman Who sang or scolded, With tho babias about her knees. Ah! well, wo may end 6ur labour, We\o wrested the toiler's right, But worry has chased tho dimple^, And the once-brown hair is white. Foresworn ere the dreams wo cherished, 'Iho toil of our day is done, And gold is tho wage of toiling — The gold of a binking sun. —Ella M'Faydcn. Australasian.