ESSAYS IN VERSE.

Evening Post, Volume LXXX, Issue 38, 13 August 1910, Page 13

ESSAYS IN VERSE.

o GOSSAMER. Look how beneath the flickering autumn light That thread of gossamer a moment fellOW 6 A darted javelin in glancing- flight . . . And now, 'tis lost to view, yet onward goes. Set loose on the soft, yearning autumn. air, It wanders — lit or unlit of the 6un. Life is that gossamer — here, and otherwhere, Lit or unlit it wanders, subtly spun. —Edith M. Thomas. Century Magazine. ROSES. I plucked a rose when in the 6ky Tho unborn day still dreamed — A orhnson ro6e, within whose breast A lurking dewdrop gleamed ; I plucked a rose to give my love, As she drew shyly near — To lay against her scarlet lips, Or in her gold-brown, hair. I plucked a rose, when in tho sky The fading euViset gleamed — A snow-white rose, within whose breast A subtle badness seemed. I plucked a rose to give my love, As she lay tilcnt there — To lay against her clay-cold lips, Or in her night-brown hair. — Mary Curwen Walker. The Australasian. EPITAPH ON A GOLFER. Stranger, there lies within this wayside tomb The- body ot a golfer bold, of whom, While yet he lived, it might with truth be said He conquered Death by never lying dead. The mucji-voxed earth which oftentimes ho rent With futile shol6 upon her surface spent, Abhorrent ever of unnatural waste, Has piled on him those sods which he displaced. Yet when to Hades' home at last ho sped. Hermes, divine conductor of the dead, His spirit to Olympus straight conveyed To show the Gods how golf should not bo played. Westminster Gazette. AMULETS: A SONG. Out of the dark, your cyea Beckoning far and fair, Under whose laughter gleams A witchery of dreams, A fantasy of prayer — Making new hopes arise Out ot tho dark . . your eyes I Out of the storm, your voice Bidding- the sea be still — Warm with Uic kindly mirth And honesty of earth ; Rou6injj my strength to will, And struggle, and rejoice Out of the storm . . your voice ! Out of the world, your heart Waiting to call me home: A beautiful calm place Wherein to hido my face Awhile from flame and foam Feeling all pain depart Out ol tho work! . . your heart! — Brian Hooker, Htnrper's Weekly.