ESSAYS IN VERSE.

Evening Post, Volume LXXIX, Issue 83, 9 April 1910, Page 13

ESSAYS IN VERSE.

THE SEALED BOOK. /*" (For Tho Post.) Though I may livo tho Present, view tho Past, The Future— a closed book securely scaled — Hides that from which ( might recoil aghatt, Or such a show of splendour be revealed As would make discontent of passing yoars. Like tho mirsfo which cheats tho, traveller's ore When in tho quiv'ring dtsert heat appears, \ Borne far-off city pictured in che sky— A trick of magio sueb as Merlin throw Across tho thaoowy spires ol Cainclot, Which at the travellers noarer came withdrawIn that Sealed Book, whose lines no Uara can blot, May there be deeds of chivalry and worth. Records of triumph* in the Lists of Life, And leniency t* wards tho«e of meaner earth, Who lira their petty liret in making strife. Perchance, among the leaves lore has a place, \ A merry stream whose » ild untutored ! sound Is checked by duty which cannot efface It« onward course, for flowing undorground It reappears, its waters multiplied: A love o'erbearing confines, that doth reach From Earth to Heaven, chastened, purified By those stern lessons Life alone can teach — This Book of Fate, what doe* it hold in store T The varied working of great Nature's planWhen brought to light its Deeds and hidden Loro May I stand forth acquitted as a man ! — Rulh M. Johnton. Kabikatca, Pohonui. RICHARD WATSON GILDER. Th« late editor of the Century Magazine—beat known, perhaps, by the ronnct beginning "Call me not dond, when I, indeed, have gone into tho company of the •verlivinjr — aoem«, sinco hi* death, to have received from all quarters that appreciation which was always accorded him by the more discriminating of hi* countrymon. Among tho many tributes to his fame, however, is tho following sonnet by an English poet, William Wathon, published in vi« "Now Poems," shortly before Mr. Gilder's death: — Tnkc, Poet, take these thanks too long deferred — You that havo made me richer year by year, Across tho vast and desert waters drear. Wafting your marriage-chimes of thought and word. Your truo-born, truthful songs. Xot April bird Utters abroad hia wisdom morning-lear From fuller heart. Still sing with note sincere, And English pure as English air hath heard, And no, though all tho fops of stylo niiiu«o ' Our gront bravo language— tricking out with toads This noble vesture that no frippery nce<K^. Help still to save, whilo Timo around him strews Old aharda cf empire, and much dust of creeds, Tho honour and the glory of tho muse. TO .. PILGRIM. Who goes his Way i" puny Wrath, ll ii back toward tho Bun, Shall find a Shadow on tho Path — , Hi* own, till Day is done > Who, turning, walks toward tho Light, Shall bid that Shado depart; Shall find tho Road to Mecca bright, And sunshine on hit heart ! What though the Shadow follows still Turn not thine Eye or Mind, Thou *rt the Mjtator. At thy Will. It must— shall !— walk behind! — Stephen Chalmers. New York Times. TO ALL MOURNERS. I do not bid you, tired ones, ccaio to weop— Thore is a time for tears; Nor do I bid You les* cocurcly keep Remembrance of past yeurn: I bid you only stand as thoso *ho roap Amongst life's living cars. I bid you still look eastward for the light, And, musing on tho dead, Draw to joureclvej tho beauty and tho might That with their spirits flod; Thus, doubly strong, toil onward through the night, Fed by this tacred bread. Tho granaries of Death can not withhold From you tho living seed: Tho empty husk, tho hollow tarnished gold, Hia guerdon and his need ; But unto you still livo tho noble-M>ul'd, Still live, and love, aud plead. I do not bid you, tired one*, love them less, I bid you lore thorn more; And, in the hour of utter loneliness, When soul and sen»e implore, They shall, with holy benediction, blecs From their tcicncr shore. — C.K.B. Daily Chronicle. SLEEP. Men all, and birds, and creeping beasts, When the dark of night is deep. From tho moving wonder of their lives Commit theimolvcs to sleep. Without a thought, 01 fear, they shut The narrow gates of wnao; Hoodies* and nuiot, in bluinbor turn Their Mrength to impotence. Tho transient strangeness of tho earth Thoir spirits no more sea; Within a silent gloom withdrawn, Thoy slumber in seorecy. Two worlds they haye — a globe forgot, Wheel inpf her dark to light, And all the enchanted realm of dream That burgeons out of night. —Walter do la Mare. Tho Odd Volunio.