ESSAYS IN VERSE.

Evening Post, Volume LXXV, Issue 33, 8 February 1908, Page 13

ESSAYS IN VERSE.

DANTE AND BYRON. Before "Ravenna's '.hrine, where rcut tho bone 5 , . Ot ltaly'a groat, poet, lowly bont, An Enylishiiia.n — :i li.ui?hfy spirit,- rent fix. -°^'ji Uoitiom. On the grimy stonor. '16 Iviieph and weeps for hero 'his spirit owns > , A biotjie", 'lik" l.imseif in br.r.ishioent — A 1 J me '/.or, that iio'si' exile plaoUddi eontoot— Foo'y's tjOn, lonl of ifolodioui lores. O Jjfitite, thon f'-o'ii [IHI to I'aradiEO Didsi journey b.v this world* -s tempeofuous v.'nys !' But, o'er thine English brother, tearful eye Lanion!. a tarnished lamo and \wthorod bnyrIli' ,','rief was not for tlicc— his, bittor si;jlw Wero for hini3olf nnd kij dishonoured * plavo. -Elizabeth French. SiirinsfleM KopuMiocxi. T II K aPEXDTH R I FT. Jle left ko liitic, did you say? Ho had vj brief n. timo'to fitay,' ' 'Twa.s hardly worth hia while lo gaihor Dross of our little oarthly day. The things that other pooiilo pri/o Ha fjavo to others, being ivho, Bcins n-> hoavpnly-foolish ratlior, That kept his frains for I'ar'adiso. Ilaixllj a koopsako rlid he leave, At.d all his gold wes fugitive. Ho kept, those things that will not perish, For him the widow and orphan grieve. lie tjave with' a ljtht lausrfr, indeed, As l;.o and gold ill agreed ; Hold i( the rtoorest rhin:a; to cherieh, Savo that it lillod t-nothcr's ncod. He had bin Pilq-nm'a Scrip of llopo, And ]<ivinq: V/ators i;i his nip. The Slid" of Faith Uiat ttill puffices Tho stumbling soul to lift it up. TJpinjf ho soon a travellor, Of oarlhly thirds ho had no earn; Bit on tho road that's Paradise's Ho v/oi.t the litjnte.-. boinij baro, — Katharine Tynan. Tilß ANGELS' PERIL. She watched (lie soar in 1 ? lockets shoot Agiiiiift ,'n«aven''j barricrf, And saw then Alrcam adown Night*3 check Iri «howos'3 of fphlon t?ars. She ran an<l i)id a troubled face vory litt'o maiil), "O moMjpr d^ar, so f.i .t they fly, I dm afraid, afraid i ' Tlip mother -oathcr! thr> childish fright, You're pafo. my darling, "here." A rourdrop fell. ''Tlie arnrols urou't, O mother, mother dear !" — Ethel Turner. Lone Hand (Sydnoy). •ihlE ROAD OF ROSES. The run of Childhood tender ' Illuriips the lotiß white way With tourh of rony splondour, All in tho dawn of dny. And over as he passc3, And through tho forett runs, Ho lights on leaves and grasoei-, A thousand little suns. And, like a gle:*.mincr river That to tlie hca descends, Tl\o lon^ whito road runs over To where tho Rainbow ami's Tho hec his small wings clo&es, And makes hi 3 sweet abode. Within I'.ie hearts of roses That bloom beside tho road. And Sprin^'n wiio little lady, Tha Prinnotc, opes ber pyno, ' And koep'i in jil.iccs shady Her golcion lamps ashino. Tho birds with runlijjM ohooning Thoir ihronfE, nin, r f all a-row. A son'j whoso jr.ysuo nicaniag Only tho children know. It tolls of stramro lands under Thci Sunset, r.trannro nnd fair, And of the World ol Wondor Abovo tho Rainbow etair. It toli3 of how To-morrow "\V i i 1 bring a chining sheaf Of ioys without v torrow. Of hours without a pnef. So, wilh clear voices rm>cinp, And pobioa iv theiv lmr.d?, The childicn jounipy singing L'nto iho Wonder LtinJd. —Victor J. Daloy. . Bulletin (Sydney),