STRAY VERSE.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXIX, Issue 3184, 1 April 1911, Page 10

STRAY VERSE.

TO SNOWDROP

Welcome, thou little modest flower! Thou ventured forth in stormy hour, Bending thine head beneath the shower, So meek and low; Smiling at hoary- winter’s lopr, Amongst the snow. Welcome, thou little bonny thing! Glad are the tidings thou’ dost bring; Soon will the: grass begin to spring, The trees to bud, And feathered songsters sweetly sing In yonder wood. ■ But, ah! too short will be thy stay, Lone guest of winter’s dreary day! Scarce will the Sun upon thee play ! His beams of light, Ere thou wilt wither and decay. And sink.in night. And so have many sunk beside; Some dropping from their tow’ring pride— S..me in their lowliness have died. Perchance I may Look 'bright upon a stormy world, And pass away! —Samuel Bamford.

TO THE UNBORN PEOPLES. Hail! Hail! to you, ye glorious hosts, Ye formless shapes that haunt us now; Ye gathering tribes, unresting ghosts, Behold us here, as low we bow In salutation to- our Kind; Our kindred dear, whose blood will be As red as ours, whose hands will find To rooms we found not door and key. Ye unborn Peoples, we have tried To march in ranks where none retreat ; In rifts of rocks our records hide, And you may find them, when your feet Shall sta.nd in places where our hands Were torn- and soiled by thorn and grime. To you we leave the Seas and Lands, And all the glorious spoils of Time. —By Ellen Gates.

THREE REASONS. “A cup of Hope!” she- said, In springtime ere the bloom was old; The crimson wine was poor and cold By her mouth’s richer red. “A cup for Love!” How low And soft the words! And all the while Her blush was rippling with a smile Like summer after snow. “A cup for Memory !” Cold' cup that one must drain alone— While autumn winds are up and moan Across the barren sea. Hope Memory, Love; Hope for fair morn, and Love for day, And Memory for the evening grey And solitary dove. Christina Rossetti. VACATION INCIDENTALS. The surf broke high upon bold rocks Wild roses hedged the way, Brown cat-tails nodded in the fens, The beach with shells was gay. Soft was the turf of sloping lawns ; On cool -iazzas wide Bright awnings flapped in salty breeze. Breatp of incoming .tide. When silvery moonlight flecked the waves, Like fairyland the scene; O’er mystic shapes of'distant sails Hung opalescent sheen. I’m glad that I enjoyed these sights, Which hearts poetic thrill, Because the clerk at our hotel Charged each one in my bill! —“New York World.”

SORROW AND LOVE. Sorrow and I have parted fellowship, Sorrow and I have parted company ; Now shall Life’s golden hours as smoothly slip As beaded pray’re upon a rosary. For Love stood waiting on the highway long, And led me from the noise of harrying feet Into a garden full of spice and song And wonder flowers rich with nectar sweet. I laugh’d aloud as laughs .a, child at play, Dancing and singing through the golden land. When lo! there stood before me in the way Sorrow and Love, link’d lightly hand in hand.

—Helen Lon yon

A CONVICT POET. The Weylmouth “Ma le Voice Choir recently gave a sacred concert in the Roman Catholic Chapel at Portland Prison, to l the great enjoyment of the convicts. The hon. secretary of the choir afterwards received a touching sonnet from one of the prisoners, who signed himself “Syzvgas,” the poetic sentiment, of which may be illustrated by the following stanzas:— Methought from Heaven in raptured homage came ■ Celestial voices, blent in harmony ; Filling the place where,, mute and sullen we Were brooding o’er our sorrow and our shame. You sang of hope, of courage, and resolve, In tones that roused the manly part to plav. And in life’s batitle dare to do thq right. And who that heard you sing ‘Lead, kindly Light,’ Although bedimming year on year revolve, Shall let tile hallowing impulse fade ’ away ?

The convict states that he wrote the poem after tbe performance by the choir, and intends to include it in a volume of verse which he mans to publish on his release.

THE GIFT O ' IFE. Life k a night all dark and wild, Yet still .stare shine; This moment is a. star, my child —-, Your star and mine. Life is a desert dry and drear, TJndewed, u'ablest: This hour is an oasis, clear; Here let us rest, Life is a sea of windy grey, Cold, fierce, and free: An isle enchanted is. to-day. For you and me. Forget night, sea, and desert: take The gift supreme, ' ■■ And, of life’s, brief relenting, .make A death Less dream. E.N.. in the “Westminster Gazette.”

APPROPRIATE DIETS. Plano food —for the aviator, Game for the baseball fan, Crabs for the youthful earsman, Smelts for the mining man. For the upholstered, stuffing; Plums for the grafting “goss”; For the Arctic explorer, ices, Snow pudding, and Chili sauce. For the coward and politician, Quail and crow are the birds; The fool who flies in passion Should be made to eat his own words. For the glovemaker, ladies’ fingers; Capers for the clown to eat. For the matchmaker, minute pudding; And for lunatics', cracked wheat. —“Boston Transcript.’’

TO A HAIRPIN. 0 hairpin cast upon the earth! ’Tis not for man to ask thy worth Or probe thv history. He only knows that, being one By which a lady’s hair is “done,” Thou art all mystery. But, lowly though they, present state, Thou hart for memory this great And deathless blessing: That thou—oh joy beyond eclipse ! Didst lie between a. maiden’s lips When she was dressing. —“'Punch ”