POETRY OLD AND NEW.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLVI, Issue 14250, 22 December 1909, Page 10

POETRY OLD AND NEW.

A FATHER'S LOVE. (Adapted, without exaggeration,- from a book written mora than two thousand years ago). DOST thou love thine offspring dearly? Wouldst thou save him future pain? Beat him on the sides severely, Beat him till he roars again. Whoso pets his child and cockers Turns him to the walks of sin; He that spares the knickerbockers Surely spoils the child therein. If the rolt remain unbroken Hast thou i roflt in his vice? So thy son; and, more by token. Thou thyself wilt pay the pribe. Wherefore, lest he prove a rover, " Teach" him ere the chance be gone; Take him up and turn him over; It shall profit thee anon. Laugh not with thy child and play not: Wink not .on him if he fall; Bow his neck lest he. obey not, And thou gnash thy teeth withal.

Short tho curb and strong "the fetter, That his feet bo not misled;' v Is he good? He might bo better; Is he n.aughty? Smack his head. Be thou tireless in correction Hour by hour and day by day. Diligent in thine affection Till his youth has rolled away. , Thus by fond paternal chiding 3 Goodly shall ho wax and wise, - Purged of - juvenile backslidings, ; Perfect .in thy follows' eyes; And for all thy pains and labours .. He shall make thee full amends, As a boast before thy neighbours; And a bragging to thy friends. DUM-DUM, in Punch. THE VICTOR. The live man victorious . Bode spurring from the fight; In a glad voico and glorious He sang of his "delight. And dead men three, -foot-loose and free. Came after in the nigl . And one laid hand on his bridle-rein-Swift as the steed he sped— "Oh, ride you fast, yet at the last, Hate faster rides," he said. " My sons shall know their father's foe One day when blades are red." •And one laid hand on his stirrup-bar Like touch o' driven mist, " For joy you slew ere joy I knew For one girl's mouth unkissed. At your board's head, at mass, at bed, My pale ghost shall persist." And one laid hand on his own two hands, " Oh, brother o' mine," quoth he, "What can I give to you who live Like gift you gave tame. Since now from strife and ache o' life Your sword-stroke makes me free?" The live man victorious Eode spurring from the fight; In a glad" voice and glorious Ho sang of his delight, And dead men three, foot-loose and free, Came after in the night. Theodosla. Garrison. SHAKESPERE. What needs my Sliakespere for his honoured bones. The labour of an ago in piled stones? Or that his hallowed reliques should be hid Under a starry-pointing pyramid? Dear son of memory, great heir of fame. What needs't thou such dull witness of thy name Thou in our wonder and astonishment Hast built thyself a lasting monument. For whilst, to the shame of slow-endeavour-ing art, Thy easy numbers flow, and that each heart Hath from the leaves of thy unvalued book Those Delphic lines with deep improssion took. Then thou, our fancy of herself bereaving, Dost make us marble with too much conceiving; And so sepulchred in such pomp dost lie, That kings for such a tomb would wish to die. MILTON. THE MOVING MOON. The moving Moon went .up the sky, And nowhere did abide: Softly she was going up. Arid a star or two beside. Her beams bemocked the sultry main, Like April hoar-frost spread; But where the ship's huge shadow lay, The charmed water burned alway A still and awful red.

Beyond the shadow of the ship I watched the water snakes; They moved in tracks of shining white. And when they neared, the elfish light Fell off in hoary flakes. Within the shadow of the ship I watched their rioh attire Blue, glossy green, and velvet black. They coiled and swam; and every track Was a flash of golden fire. 0 happy living things; no tongue Their beauty might declare: A spring of love gushed from my heart, And I blest them unaware: Sure my kind saint took pity on me, And I blest them unaware. Coleridge.