POETRY OLD AND NEW.

New Zealand Herald, Volume L, Issue 15349, 9 July 1913, Page 12

POETRY OLD AND NEW.

| ANGELS OF THE SPRING. We see them not—vie cannot hear The music of their wing— Yet know we that they sojourn near, The Angels of the Spring I They glide along this lovely ground When the first violet grows; Their graceful hands have just unbound The zone of yonder rose. I gather it for thy dear breast, From stain and shadow free: That which an Angel's touch hath blest. Is meet, my love, for thee! —lioßEwr Stephen Hawker. THE NORTH ROOM. The little room wherein I sleep and wake lias windows northward Bet, agnin»t a wall, And though it's white and sweet, with warmth and air, The real sun does not creep inside at all. But frorm my neighbour') windows, in the wall. The sunlight flashes bravely hack to mine; Pale yellow gleam*— dance upon my bed, Ami stand to me for symbol and for sign. Set wide thy little windows, 0 my soul And welcome sun that shines on others, bright, Nor mourning that it is not now thine own— Even reflected sunbeams can give light. Louise MotiEY bowman. THE SOUL AND THE SEA. I hear the shouting of th' exultant sea, lis reel and crash along the shuddering strand; Through muffling mist the wide reverberant land In thunderous labour laughs exultantly; The restless wind's tumultous revelry Whips into whirling clouds the blanched seasand ; The primal powers in grim convulsion grand Strive, straining agonists, frenzied to be free. And in the lapses of the roaring gale I hear the cries of lives that rage and weep, That sow for ever and that never reap; Brave hearts that travail with all hopes Mint fail Break with the breakers: with a wandering wail Flics sorrow with white lips along the deep. James A. MACKErtETn. THE VOICE OF THE MILLIONS. Bound to one triumph, of one travail born. Doomed to one death, in one brief life we moil; The pongs that maim us and the powers that FJJOII Are common sorrows heired from worlds outworn. Alike In weakness, time too long hath torn Our mother, Patience, and our father. Toil. Brothers in hatred of the fates that foil. Say not in vain we n-nirmur and we mourn'. Oh by the love that lights our mother's eyes, liv hearth and home, by common hopes and ' fears, , „ . Bv all sad sweetness of the human years, Partings and meetings, by our infants' criesOne at" we. through the heart's divine allies, In long allegiance to eternal tears! —James A. Macxerbth. TRUE PHILOSOPHY. Oh that mankind, alive to truth. Would cease a hopeless war to wage; Would reap in youth the joys of youth— In age the peaeefulness of age Upon an everlasting tide Into the silent seas we go; But, verdure laughs along the side, And roses on the margin blow. Nor life, nor death, nor aught they hold. Hate thou above, their natural height; Yet learn that all our eves behold, lias value, if we mete it right. Pluck then the flowers that line the stream, Instead of lighting with its power; But. pluck as flowers, not gems, nor deem That they will bloom beyond their hour. Whate'er betides, from day to day. An even pulse and spirit keep; And like a child, worn' out with play, When weaned with existence, sleep. —Francis Hastings Doyle, i