ESSAYS IN VERSE.

Evening Post, Volume LXXVIII, Issue 129, 27 November 1909, Page 13

ESSAYS IN VERSE.

A SONG OF SUMMER.' Once more lie the dyes of dawning Like jewels on 6lope and shore : Ones more comes the south wind fawning With the spice-rose scents of yore, While under the sky's blue awmng There is laughter and love once more. Again in the hush of nooning « Do the swooning day-dreams stir:; Again with his cradle crooning The cuckoo sings in the fir; Again with his tireless tuning Does tho cricket chirr and chirr. All strains that boro grief for burden Are things of a vanished hour: There is naught but happiness heard on The lips, for the world is a bower : We have gained at last for a guerdon Life at its perfect flower. — Sennett Stephens. Bunsey'a Magazine. THE UGLY SINGER. I sing of Beauty, and my song Gives eyes, alas ! unto the blind ; m The lover learns to look and long, The maiden ventures to be kind. I sing of Beauty ; ehe meanwhile Is Beauty's self do she but smile. I eing of Love— and, 0, my heart, Who knows like thee to tell tho pain Of those who only meet to part, Of those who love, and lovo in vain I I sing of love by Death denied : He draws hor closer to his side. I eing, ah mo ! a lullaby — A little tender haunting call, Like cooing doves, that homing fly What time the evening shadows fall. 'Twould charm the very waves to rest: His baby nuzzles at her breast. ! — Georgina B. Paget. Westminster Gazette. OCTOBER. A little old woman came out of the wood In a patchwork gown and a mulberry. hood, Her cheeks were red, and her hair was white, And her eyes were sharp as a frosty night. She laughed as she tripped on her tipmost toe, "No wonder that people admire me so 1" But alas for her pride — a littlo bird, Who was hopping beside her, overheard. The bird told tho Wind, and the Wind went "Whew !" "Such conceit," cried the bird as away he flew. Then the wind got up, and began to blow; He bellowed and bluster'd and fluster'd6t> That the littlo old woman dropped down on her knees, And cried : "Be merciful — please, please, please !" But the Wind laughed aloud, and with all his might He blew the jpld woman out of sight ; Oh — but he didn't forget to snatch Hor wonderful gown of patch-on-patch ; He tore it in ribbons, he tore it in shreds, The yellows, the browns, the crimson, and reds. As ho tossed all the pieces up in the air — IjO ! thoy caught in the branches everywhere ; And that is the reason, so people say. Of the wonderland in tho woods to-day. — Roso Hennikor lieaton. St. James's Budget.