SELECTED VERSE

Hawera Star, Volume XLV, 14 November 1925, Page 20

SELECTED VERSE

GREAT SHIPS

The sound of moving water is like a song— Music with overtones and with white flame, A choir of many voices holding long The beauty of a sacred name.

But a great ship upon a morning sea. Oblivious of tossing waves and fears Is like an iron man, with certainty, Pushing aside the wind-combed years. —Benjamin Rosenbaum, in the “Bookman” (New York).

THE HOMING HEART. Each morn, beloved, my road leads far Prom where you, home-contented, are. My mood is kin to that unrest Which sends the wild bird from its nest. i But. tho ’ I have' a roaming heart, Godi gave me, too, a homing heart! How swift at dusk my path runs to The lights of home, the,.arms of you! —Daniel Henderson.

' MORNING GLORIES

Brown seeds and moist earth —and hope; Smile of the sun; then stirring roots within. And timid fingers pushing through the clod; Next, heart-shaped leaves and tendrils reaching out To clasp the lattice as they upward climb Through sun and dew and gentle rain, With faith serene, unfaltering.

And then one day a hundred flowers ! Colour of baby’s cheek and maiden’s blush, Azure of blue bird and of sky, White of a cloud or snow on mountain top, Purple more splendid than in robes

of kings— Each flower a trumpet-throat, attune with Love, Singing a morning hymn of praise. THE TRIPLE GIFT. Up in the city, where men go mad, And ever the tumult grows That was launched iat Moscow or Tetrograd, Curses there are and blows. H«re, where the bush creeps down to the shore, And the wave laughs back with glee, Joy returns with her gifts onco more — Children, flowers, ;and the sea.

Look at tho city. A smoke-brown haze Enfolds it—in grief and shame Concealing the foul deeds done these days And night, in brotherhood’*, name. Here there is neither strife nor cry, Nor those who pursue or flee; But a gull’s white wings in a sapphire sky — And children, flowers, and the ,sea;

If alien plotters should work their will, While the nation’s sentries sleep, No more would the children .smile back still At the countless smiles of the deep. Of gaiety soon they would stand bereft, And grief would their portion be. t No joyous children would then be left — Only the flowers and the .sea.

Which shall they have? From a despot State Hunger and blows and tears ? Or the mother-love that watches so late And guards till dawn appears? It is ours to say. If we make the choice That will keep them happy and free. Then shall the people, still rejoice— In children, flowers, and the sea. —John Sandes. (Sydney M. Herald).

TO A SEAGULL. White as foam on crested wave, Is your breast so smooth, And your grey-lined pinions lave The water as you move. Darting swiftly o’er the sea With a u r eird, wild screech, Circling high o’er rock and cliff, Now, you skirt the beach. Dropping lightly to the sand On your scarlet feet, Boldly ( there reflected stand For a moment fleet. Then fancy takes you far Out beyond our sight. Vanished, in the mists that mar The far horizon's light. E.. Shaw. THE CITY. “Wheels! The wheels of the city Are turning Slowly and slowly. Are churning iSlow-moving masses of men. “Lights! The lights of the city Are blazing Flashing and winking Amazing .... Stars overhead beyond ken. “Songs! The songs of the city Are pouring Up to' the blackness Are soaring Hymns from the multitude’s fane. “Life,! The life of the city Is whirling, Reeling in triumph, Unfurling Vistas of joy—and of pain. ’ —Alfred Dunning.