POETRY OLD AND NEW.
THEEE JOLLY HUNTSMEN. There were three jolly huntsmen. As I have heard them say, And they would go a-huntine. All on a summer's day. All the day they hunted, And nothing could they find. Except a ship a-sailing,, A-sailing with the wind. One said it was a ship. The other he said nay; The third said it wa* a house. With the chimney blown away. And all the night they hunted. And nothing could they find. Except the moon a-gliding, A-gliding with the wind. One said it was the moon, The other he said nay. The third said it was a cheese, And half of it cut away. —Anon. BONNIE BESSIE LOGAN0, bonnie Bessie Logan Is dainty, young, and fair; The very wind that's blawin , It lingers in' her hair. Sae lichtsome is her footstep As she comes o'er the lea; But bonnie Bessie Logan Is owre young for me. 0, .bonnie Bessie Logan, The lads are at the stile, Or half-way up the loanin', To catch your winsome smile; I fain wad be amang them, If sic a thing could be, i But bonnie Bessie Logan Is owre young for me. O, bonnie Bessie Logan, I saw you late yestreen, A rose was on your bosom. And love was in your een. I doot the lad that pu'd it Is sure to win his plea. For bonnie Bessie Logan Is owre young for me. Alexander Anderson. BEFORE THE SPRING. Dip down upon the northern shore, O sweet new year delaying long; Thou doest expectant nature wrong; Delaying long, delay no more. What stays thee from the clouded noons, Thy sweetness from its proper place? Can trouble live with April days. Or sadness in the summer moons Bring orchis, bring the foxglove spire The little speedwell's darling blue. Deep tulips dash'd with fiery dew. Laburnums dropping-wells of fire. O thou, new year, delaying long, Delayest the sorrow in my blood, That longs to burst a frozen bud, And flood a fresher throat with song. —Tennyson. TO MY DOG. Thy love, 0 faithful friend, surpasseth far The puny compass of our human heart; E'en as the magnet's secret force o'erleaps Both time and distance, ever tending straight To join its master element, so shineth forth Unswerving fealty in thine honest gaze, Directed yearningly upon the lord Whom blindfold - terteoe hath to thee assigned. With perfect sympathy is mirrored true, By doleful mein and look, by gleeful pranks, Thy master's every-sad-or joyful mood;" And when perchance he chides, unjustly strikes. Or spurns thee angrily—with cry of pain. With wistful, pleading glance, with soft caress, Thou nobly takest blame upon thyself. Most humbly craving pardon— love, And life entire surrendering to thy liege, 0 would to heaven that we one little tithe As well did worship render to'pur frpdj —Morgan Douglas. WHAT DREAM TO-NIGHT? What dream shall be to-night? Pent darkly how— shall awake— My pregnant deep, abysßmal sleep By forest, hill, and lake! Down ways and streets nocturnal, By autumn fields and vernal. Through lands fair and infernal Mine through the' magic night!— Mine till pale dawn cloves, flake by flake, Gleam, glow, redden, burst, and ores*. The moon shines -white. What dream shall wake Me in what world to-night? -E. J. Buraai Atsihsok.
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Bibliographic details
New Zealand Herald, Volume LI, Issue 15560, 18 March 1914, Page 10
Word Count
546POETRY OLD AND NEW. New Zealand Herald, Volume LI, Issue 15560, 18 March 1914, Page 10
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