ESSAYS IN VERSE

Evening Post, Volume LXXXVII, Issue 103, 2 May 1914, Page 13

ESSAYS IN VERSE

WAR. The world was afire with the feverish rumours- of warfare, Its pulses were throbbing with passion, and passionate pride ; From eastward to westward a thunderous tumult was brewing, The flood-gates of battle were opened— and in stormed the tide. The earth \vas_ astir with the sound of the tramping of armies, Tho rumble and clatter of cannon, the rattle of guns; From ocean to ocean the emoke-belching warships were steaming — Mankind was relentlessly scheming to slaughter its eons. All lands were o'er-hung by tho 6wift, silent squadrons of airships, Their shadows passed over the cities, obscuring the sky_; From earth and from air and from eea came the signal of battle — And a child, knowing nothing of madness, asked, "Mother, but why?" — 8.H.8. Daily Chronicle. PIPER, PLAY. Now the furnaces are out, And the aching anvils sleep; Down the road the grimy rout Tramples homeward twenty deep. Piper, play ! Piper, play ! Though we be o'erlaboured men, Ripe for rest, _pipe your best ; Let us foot it once again. Bridled looms delay their din, All the humming wheels are spent ; Busy spindles cease to spin; Warp and woof must rest content. Piper play ! Piper play ! For a little we are free; Foot it, girls, and shake your curls. Haggard creatures though we be. Racked and soiled the faded air Freshness in our holiday ; Clouds and tides our respite share; Breezes linger by the way. Piper, rest ! Piper, rest ! Now a_ carol of the moon Piper, piper, play your best! Melt the sun into your tune. We ar© of the humblest grade ; Yet we dare to dance our fill ; Male and female were we made — Fathers, mothere, lovers etill. Piper, softly, 6oft and low, Pipe of love in mellow notes, Till the tears begin to flow, And our hearts are in our throats. Nameless as the stars of night Far in galaxies unfurled. Yet we wield unrivalled might, Joints and hinges of the world. Night and day, night and day ; Sound the eong tho hours rehearse ; Work and play, work _and play, The order of the universe. Now the furnaces are out, / And the aching anvils sleep; Down tho road a merry rout Dances homeward, twenty deep. Piper, play ! Piper, play ! Wearied people though wo be, Ripe for rest, pipe your best, For a little we or© free. —John Davidson. From "New Ballads." SUNRISE ON THE TARARUAS. Green and primrose, flecked with purple hollows, Bush transfigured in a golden light, Lakes of mist soft-swaying m the valleys, Snow-clouds poising in a fairy flight ! O the glory of the Tararuas, In the wonder of an April morn ! 0 the radiance of the sunrise When a day new-winged with hope is born ! O the mystic colours of the dawning, Shades unknown to tongue or artistry ; Faintest flushings, deepest purplings, floating Ir» a sapphire-border'd golden sea! — C. G. Keats.