ESSAYS IN VERSE

Evening Post, Volume LXXXVII, Issue 151, 27 June 1914, Page 15

ESSAYS IN VERSE

AMONG THE WILLOWS. High on the uplands a bolt of trees Stretches a line by the winter corn, Sweet with the scent of blossoming thorn, Zephyr by zephyr, breeze by breeze. The flower«heacl bonds to the weight of the beo; And down in the valley by osier and hedge Marsh-marigolds shine in. tho deepening ! sedge, Flower "by Qower, tree by tree. Spirit of shadowing cloud and gleam 1 Breathe to the heart of the weary town, Of winding water and windy Down, Willow by willow, stream by stream. — Pamela Glenconner. Westminster. MODERN IDEALS. The sunlight gleams upon our path unheeded, While hours untreasured drift beyond recall ; ' Day unto day we reap no compensation, Dreams of to-morrow still our hearts enthral. We vex our souls with unavailing Borrow, With fancied slights, with vain and futile fcare, While all life's gladness passes unremembered, E'en love seems veiled within a mist of tears. Envy still intervenes to mar our pleasures, And life's ideals shrink at Mammon's 6hrine ; Fearing each friend unveiled may prove a. rival, We etiflo each impassianed spark divine. Unmoved by' 'sunsets, howsoe'er entrancing, By flowers, or songs of birds amidst the trees; t _ , We miss tho wind's faint ripple on the river, Nor hear the luring murmur o'er the seas. No artist's message wakes one chord's 1 vibration, . No music thrills our sordid 6ouls with fire, Poets forsooth ! are only idle dreamers, Some new emotion is the world's desire. — J. W. Harbinson. Australasian. BENEDICITE. T heard at eve a soft«toned bell That seemed to bid the day farewell And brought the world of troubled care The calm that follows answered prayer. I listened to tho measured beat Of pulsing bell-notes, low ( and sweet, And all the burdens of the day, That lay upon me, fell away. Then silence— but tho 6oft-toned bell Had left the spirit of its spell Upon the hour, the place, and me — A blessed benedicite. — William J. Lampton. Lippincott's Magazine. ' CUDLAWE. [The village of Cudlawe, in Sussex, was given to Earl Roger Montgomery after the Battle of Hastings. It formerly belonged to Earl Godwin. It was submerged by the sea some two or three centuries ago.] Never again along the village street Shall children play, or in deep-rutted' lanes Gather great bunches of tho meadowsweet, Or ride at sunset on the loaded wains Half-buriod in Ide warm and 6cented hay. No lovers linger in the friendly dark Of moonless nights; and all the summer's day In the farm homesteads, 6ilence; no dogs bark ; There is no movement and no 6ound beside The circling curlews' oft-repeated call, A plaintive cry; and when the ebbing i i tide Is lowest there is but a broken wall, I Tho fragment of a dwelling made by hands How long since dead ! far out upon the sands. —Moray Dalton. ! The Spectator.