SELECTED VERSE

Hawera Star, Volume XLV, 9 May 1925, Page 16

SELECTED VERSE

TO-DAY.' To-dav is added to our time, Vei* while we sing it glides away; How soon shall we he past our prime; For where, alas, is yesterday? Gone, gone into eternity; There in every day in turn appears; To-morrow—Oh, ’twill never be, It we should live a thousand years! Our time is all to-dav, to-day ; The same, though changed; and while it flies, With still, small voice the moments say, “To-day, to-day. be wise, be wise. LIFE. A call, a lull; a surging sea An angry bosom bore. A darken’d speck appears to.lee Of reefs, that guard the shore. Dark figures gather round the speck ; Stout hearts that make a nation. Have rescued from the unseen wreck A life, that breathes salvation. The wind dies down; the sea's a lake That ripples with emotion: Oh, God, how wondTous did’t. Thou make . This ever-changing ocean!

Our life is hut a changing form As varied as the sea. A troubled conscience gathers storm; A clear one sails to lee. —C.AI.B. TREE LOVES. I have given my love to a English tree, The love I had' thought was voiir own forever. I have given my . love to a beech, and a birch, And an aspen down bv the rrver. Yet deep in my heart a memory stirs Of the* eucalypt’s bronze, and blue, and silver. The opal blush of the tall red-gums. And the sweep- of she-oaks by the river. A.E., in* the Sydney Morning Herald.

THE LITTLE PEOPLE. A dreary place this earth would be Were there no little people in it ; The song of life would lose its mirth Were there no children to begin it. No little forms, like buds, to grow And make the admiring heart surrender ; • No little hands on breast and trow To keep the thrilling love-chords tender. The sterner souls would grow more stern. Unfeeling natures more inhuman. And man to stoic coldness turn, And woman would be less tnan woman. i -. ■ Life’s song, indeed, would Iso its charm j . Were there no babies to begin i’~ : A doleful place this world would he Were there no little' people in it. —Whittier. WHERE THE ROSES WALK TWO BY TWO. In those forbidden gardens that I pass, With walls my eyes may never wander through, There are paths I know like ribbons in the- grass Where the roses walk all summer two by two, As ladies do. Up and down the garden all the idle day ‘ They trail their skirts, and in the evenings I always listen, for I know the way The white rose whispers and the red rose sings Of fair far things. —Anne Goodwin ' Winslow.

LOST There came a little wistful breeze Across the garden fair: I heard it whisper to the frees While yet it rustled there. It seemed to find no piaee to stay. The grasses heard it sigh As though -it somehow lost its way Beneath the starry sky. And then a white rose;" fair and kind, Ileaned closer through the mist And lifted to the tender wind Frail petals to be hissed. No' longer lonely does it stray, For every blossom knows The dreaming wind that lost its way Came wooing of the rose! THE FIDDLKiRi. lie fiddled down the narrow street, net wee n the bamws tripping; the merry haunting litLe air Bound oluer hearts went gripping. And sent; the little urchins' feet A-hopping and a-skippiiig. He fiddled through the weary town, Fet every pulse a-lhrobbing, From, windows quickly thrown up wide Out came the heads n-bobbing, And some folk laughed as he went by. And some folk fell to sobbing. Across the waste and to the sea., He fiddled merry hearted, The children idly drifted back To, games that they had ,started. I wonder why he left with me The sen-.e of jov departed. —T. M. Maunder. TUB TWO' ROADS. I know, a little mad that runs By hidden ways apart, ■ h, rough, sunny glade and shady dell, I light to the foiest’s heart. And no,w tho’ Winter’s tempests rage, And a,!l the trees are hare, f, >uld I. but go, Full well 1 know % That Spring would moot- mo there! " *' ■ 1 know another road that goes Beyond the night and day. Beyond the farthest star that, shines Upon the Milky Way. ( And tho’ tlie world seem dark and drear. And life but toil and care. Yet this I know. Whene'er T go, Lave will be waiting; there, —W. J. E. HAslam.