POETRY OLD AND NEW.
MOTHER AND CHILD. " Mother. see the soldiers In the garden stand!" ."Nay, love, 'tis red borguuiot Set on cither hand." " Mother, there arc Bailors Darting to and fro!" " Xay, love, 'tis blue salvia Planted in a row." " Surely little fairies Dance upon the lawn? " Thoso are only daisies Opened out Binco dawn. " Ah! well, I see two angels ' Watching by the gate!" " In truth, they are but lilies Madonna told to wait!" —A. H. L. ASDHIISO3T. ASH WEDNESDAY. Here in the lonely, chapel 1 will wait, Here will 1 rest, it" any rest may be; So fair the day is, and tho hour so late, 1 shall have, few to share the blessed calm with mo. ...ii ii i Calm and soft light, sweet inarticulate calls! Ono shallow d:sh of eerie golden fire, By molten chains above the altar swinging, Dnws my eyes up from the shadowed stalls To the warm chancel-dome; Crigliko the clustered organs loom, _ Yet from their thunder-threatening choir Flows but a ghostly singing-HaH-human voices reaching home In infinite, tremulous surge and falls. Light on his stops and keys, And pallor on the player s face, Who. listening rapt, with finger-stall tc seize . The pattern of a mood's elusive grace, Captures his spirit in an airy lac© Of fading, fadinc harmonies. Oh. let your coolness soothe My weariness, frail music, where you keep Tryst with the even-fall: Where tone by tone you find a pathway , smooth To yonder gleaming cross, or nearer crc"p Along tho bronzed wall, Whero nhade by shade thro' deeps of brown Comes tho still twilight down. ■ ■ • —John EitsKihE. THE NIGHTINGALE. The Nightingale, as soon as April brmgoth Unto her rested sense » perfect waking. While late-bare Earth, proud of new clothing, Sing B R P ouf ho'r woes, athorn hor song-book making; . ... And mournfully bewailing. Her throat in tunes oxprcasctn, What grief hor breast oppressed, For Teieus' force on her chaste will prevail-
ing. Alas! sho hath no other cause of anguish Bui Teveus' love, on her by strong hand Wherc7n° she' suffering, all her Bpirita JanWherein, she suffering, all her spirits JanFull BU woraanlike complains hor frill was broken. , , „ But I who daily craving. Cannot have to content me, Have more cause to lament me, Since wanting is more woe than too much having. O Philomela fair, O tako some gladness That here is juster cause ot piaintful sadness! . ~.. Thine earth now springs, mine fadetn, , Thy thorn without, my thorn my heart invadeth. _ gln pmip IDKBT _ MAN AND NATURE. "In ha-mony with Nature?" Restless fool, Who win such heat dost preach what were . When to thee, last impossibility; When tree, the last Impossibility; To to like Nature strong, .like Nature cool - Know, man hath all which Nature hath, but And iH&t more lie all his hopes of good. Nature is cruel; man is sick of bood: Nature 8 tobbcm; man would fain .dm.: Nature is \ckle; man hath need of rest: Natu o org ves no debt, and fears no grave; Man would bo mild, and with safe conscience Man must' begin, know this, whew Nature Naturc n Jnd man can never be fast friends. Fool, if thou canst not pass her, rest her i slavel .-Maitjiew ARNOLD.
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Bibliographic details
New Zealand Herald, Volume LI, Issue 15649, 1 July 1914, Page 12
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539POETRY OLD AND NEW. New Zealand Herald, Volume LI, Issue 15649, 1 July 1914, Page 12
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