ESSAYS IN VERSE ULSTER'S VIGIL.

Evening Post, Volume LXXXVII, Issue 74, 28 March 1914, Page 13

ESSAYS IN VERSE ULSTER'S VIGIL.

We will not fear, for any sage's warning; •We may not turn, though legions bar the way; For with us march the heroes of the morning, Sages and soldiers of an earlier day Who fell long since, yet, dying, scorned the dust — These mighty comrades know our cause is just. * Yet for a while, the star of Peace still burning, ' They keep with us the vgil of the North; Calm to restrain us, till with day's returning The red torch tremble and the hosts go forth; And, girt with justice, armed with living flame, An older England calls on England's name. Imperial Mother! though thou scorn the living, Hear now their pleading, who are dead and free; ' Lest with the daybreak, angered past forgiving, The souls of these thy greatest turn from thee, And thou, disowning us, be fpund at last Thyself disowned by thine immortal Past! — M. Adair Macdonald. The Spectator. AN OLD SONG RE^UNG. Down by the salley gardens my love and I did meet; She passed the salley gardens with little snow-white feet. She bid me take love easy as the leaves grow on the tree; But I, being young and foolish, with her would not agree. In a field by the river my love and I did stand, And on my leaning shoulder she laid her snow-white hand. She bid me take life easy as the grass grows on the weirs ; But I was young and foolish, and now am full of tears. — W. B. Yeats. In "The Wild Harp." AFFINITIES. A coloured scarf across your gown, A red rose ip your hair, A bright light" in your eyes of brown, Your slim feet lithe and bare. And as with lissome; steps you dance Along the hard, white shore, It seems like some half-dead romance That I have dreamt before. Was it m vanished centurieß, Upon a Grecian strand, By deeply blue Aegean seas, You sped across the sand ? A reed lute quivered on the air, I watched your slim form sway ; With mocking lips and windblown hair You laughed and danced away A thousand years, and then again, 1 heard the rhythmic beat . Of castanets in old-world Spain, Amid a blaze of heat. A scarlet lily in your mouth, Ah ! you seemed meant for me, And all the passion of the South — Vain, fleeting ecstasy. Once more, upon a silver shore, I watch your brown eyes' fire, And feel as I have felt before, A surge of wild desire. Elusive through the shadowed past I saw your spirit 1 shine, Until to-night I rise 'at last, And claim your soul as mine. , Australasian. Alice Gore-Jones.' BIRTH. She who gives birth in woe Forgets her pain at morn, Joyful to know A man is born. And all her senses sing That from her blood and bone New life should spring, New, yet her own. The poet, whose soul's unrest Kills, all hia spirit's ease, But yet is blest With sweet increase, Lifts up his voice, elate, And oarola blithe and free; For to create 4 la ecstasy Pain has but little worth For those who travail long 1 To bring to birth A 3on, a song. In "Cambridge Poets." Arthur Grimble.