POETRY OLD AND NEW.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LII, Issue 16035, 29 September 1915, Page 10

POETRY OLD AND NEW.

STRIKE I STRIKE I STRIKE! Strike' Strike! Strike! , While our fleet wants coal at sea, Awl I thought that my tongue could utter The thoughts that sriso in mo! Oh! Well may the enemy ioy At this patriot squabble (or pay; And well may von Tirpit? feel glad As he Bloats on his hopes of " The Day. How a.ha.ll our ships jo on ' With nothing their bunker* to fill? It's on. for the touch of a Tudor hand Or the voice of a Cromwell that's still! -Troth. THE SOLDIER. If I should die, think only this of,me: That there's some corner of \ foreign field That is for ever England. There shall bo In that rich earth a richer dual conceabd; A dust whom England bore, shaped, wade aware. . , 'Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam, _"",,, A body of England's, breathing English air, Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home. And think, this heart, all evil shed away, A Dulse in the eternal mind, no less Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given. Her sif.rts and sounds; dreams happy as her day; And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness, In hearts at peace, under an English heaven. —Hcprkt Brooke, THE WAR LOAN. In the trusty worsted stooking, in the teapot thick with dust. Lay not up useless treasure to corrupt by motb~~and rust, As money is no password for the great and vast Unknown, So invest the bidden talent in the new war loan, For money means munitions, and munitions are the test Of a peace that is decisive in the East and in the West; All prayers to utop this carnage will be. nil unloss you're prone To invest the last brass farthing in the new war loan. All cannot go to Flanders or the Dardanelles to fight, But all can back the war loan, lis the winning horse all right, The investment is a Bate one, gilt-edged the brokers own. So haste and put your £ s d in the new war loan. —Patriot, Aberdeen. TO BILL, Hi, Biil!-Ajn't-yer getting worried, Ain't yer going to win? Ain't yer isort of flutriod? Ever heard o' Cossacks What about Berlin? Say, Bill!— Tell us why yer stoppin' While the pace is hot? Why the bombs yer droppin' Haven't seined the Khakis Back to Aldershot? Hi, BilHRoll the beggars over! Paris first, and then Straight across to Dover. Ain't yer got the shippin'? Ain't yer got the men? Sny, Bill!— Don't you overrate 'em! Kitchener's a funkSend an ultimatum, Clank your bally sabre, Muko the beggars bunk! Hi, Bill!'Eave your bloomin' anchor, Ain't yer got the pluck? Jellicoe'a a swanker (Nelson was another). Come an' try your luck! Say, BilUDays is getting shorter, Book your journey through, Air, or land, or water! Hustle, an* invade us— Gaw'd 'elp yet when yer do. William Freeman, in the South Pacifio Mail,