The Poet’s Corner.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 994, 20 March 1891, Page 4

The Poet’s Corner.

LOVE. Unless you can think, when the song i 3 done. No other is sweet in the rhythm j Unless you can feel, «hen left by one. That all men else go with him ; Unless you can know, when upraised by h!s breath, That your beauty it.elf wants proving ; Unless you can swear —‘ For life, for death Oh, fear to call it loving ! Unless you can muse in a crowd all day, On the absent face that fixed you ; Unless you can love as the angels may. With the breadth of heaven betwixt you ; Unless yon can dream that bis faith is fast, Through behooving and unbehooving ; Unless you can die when the dream is past--Oh, never call it loving ! MAYBE LANDBeyond where the marshes are dank and wide Is a ladder of red and gold, Where the Bun has sunk in the shifting tide Of the clouds that tho night elves mould, It leads to the portals of Maybe Land, Whose castles and groves we see, On a vapour bank o’er the mists expand. To darken tho wind-swept lea. ’Tis there that our wishes are all made true. Where frowns may not mar the brow, Where storms never mutter the whole year through, Where Then Is transformed to Now, And only the dreamer who Idly halts Wi'-h a pencil and brush in hand. Can travel the path to the mystic vaults, And the treasures of Maybe Land. THE WOMAN OF TO-DAY. Let others sing the praises of the Woman of the Past, Or canonize the Woman of the Future coming fast, I string my lyre for neither; No, I lift my little lay And sing my song to celebrate the Woman of Today. The Woman of the Past was good, and better still may bo The Woman of the future, but, oh, good enough for me The girl who thro’ tho mazes of the Present works her way And stands, In her integrity, the Woman of Today. Upon the world’s great stage She plays roles many and diverse; But, tho’ she may in politics her pretty head immerse, Or seek the pulpit or the bar, still shines the sacred ray Of love around the hearthstono of tho Woman of Today. No pent-up Utica confines her powers. Tho’ prejudice Still prowls about her path, no work that’s worthy .comes amiss ; She may not vote, but ballots fall obedient to her sway ; The conscience of the country’s in tho Woman of Today. She has her faults, Spots big and black the sun, bright face do blur ; But who could live without its light, or with It lacking her J Against her follies and her fada let Other folk inveigh, I celebrate tbe virtues of the Woman of To-day,