SELECTED VERSE

Hawera Star, Volume XLVIII, 28 March 1925, Page 16

SELECTED VERSE

AUTUMN. The glorious Autumn weather u nirli nmrlvedThe early part of this week recalled vividly Keats's ode to the season- —one-of rhe finest nature poems in the language. Season of mists and mellow fruitfulneas, Ciose bosom-friend of the maturing sun ; Conspiring with hjm how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run ; To bend with apples the mossed cottage , trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core: fo swell the gourd and plump the hazel stieils With .a sweet kernel ; to set budding more, And stil| more, later (lowers for the bees, Jiui) they think warm days "ill never cease, For Summer has o'erbrimmed their elainmv cells.

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they ? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too— While barred clouds bloom the solt dying day, And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue ; Then, in a wailful choir the small gnats

mourn Along the river sallows, borne aloft Oy sinking as the light wind lives or dies; And full grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn : Hedge crickets sing; and now with treble softTlie redbreast whistles from a garden croft; And gathering swallows twit Ifr in the skies. —John Keals. AUTUMN FIRES. ' In the other gardens And up the vale, From the autumn bonfires See the smoke trail! Pleasant summer over And all the summer flowers. The red fire blazes. The grey smoke towers. Sing a song of seasons! Something bright in all! Flowers in the summer, Fires in the fall! R.L.S.

BACK TCP THE DEEP. If you’ve sailed the deep blue sea, sir, And know the lift and feel Of a staunch ship under foot, sir, Well sparred and swift of keel, No matter how long you’ve left her, To woo a job' ashore, You’ll feel the thrill of thfe life, sir, Ploughing the sea once more. Though of late it has been'your luck, sir, A longshore job to hold; With your pennant at' the truck, sir. You’ll step it large and bold, When you take your ship to sea, sir, Beyond the outer buoy To the deep blue, wide and free, sir, Your mistress, pride and joy. —R.C.H., in the Southland Times.

IN THE SEARCH OF liOVE.

I know that, somewhere under the sun There are "quiet women Between white walls, going about

their peaceful tasks In a blue twilight; , Folding things, . ' And putting things away, With quaint restful minds dreaming back in the past, Content. .