AT THE SIGN OF THE LYRE

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1649, 7 October 1903, Page 75 (Supplement)

AT THE SIGN OF THE LYRE

CHAMBERLAIN. (By Alan McNi-il.) A business mail there is to-day Yv ho built a “House/'” and made it pay, Vv here other men have hailed. _ ' Bight skilfully he steered his ship Through all the long commercial trip By legion vessels sailed. A business man there is to-day, Who stands amongst the few who sway A nation's destinies. His sifted mii\l lias helped her through One of those storms, that weaklings’ -brew For sake of present ease. A business man there is i c-day, Whose skill has nourished, lovingly That “tree’’ men call Empire. With patience rare lie watched it grow (For with such plants the growth is slow) And common folk soon tire. A business man there stands to-day, Alone ! and wants to' have his say. Him will the people hear. He only has the right to teach, No living man can better- preach Ihe truths lie holds so dear. His genius has spanned the seas, From these far shoes to Britain’s quays, With mutual sympathy. As his the brain that could create, That brain will surely, sioon or late, Show us what he can see. • OUR BABIES. Thirty-one years ago this fall the proudest- young mothers of Bly Were Mary Ella and Maud Ed: cl la and Isabella and I. Bella’s baby was named Irene, and my little boy was John, While Paul and Madeline were the names the ‘other two hit upon. And which was the prettiest infant notone of us could say, And which turned out the smartest we don’t know to this day. " All of them tiptop babies/sturdy of limb and spine, Were Isabella’s and Maud Estella’s and Mary Ella’s and mine. They all had the mumps together and measles drear with spots ; They all played ring-round-rosy, *tho cunning little tots ! They all made burdock baskets and dandelion rings,

And roofed in a fence corner for dishes and dollies’ things. They all had a calf and a lamb apiece, and a garden plot that bore Some watermelons and strawberries and experience for four. Coming from school they kept as close as four grapes on a vine Isabella’s and Mary Ella’s and Maud Extc!la’s and mine. Ah, me! how fast the children grow! ’ The seasons onward fare And lift the babies’ races oh. so high up in the air! Their heads go up their thoughts go out, their hearts are large and sweet, And mother love is not enough to make their lives complete. No matte; ! John’s wed 'to Irene, and Pan) to Madeline; They still are Pella’s and Alary Ella’s and Mar.id Estella’s and prune. Thirty-one years ago! And now the proudest grandmothers in Bly, Are Mu tv Ella and Iviaud Estes !a and Isabella and I! t . . —lttheiwyn \»' etnerald. AT SUNSET. Do! yonder, in tho western sky \ bhuie is menwring breed and high ! Tho trailing clouds that come and go Take fire as they approach the glow, and all the burning sky proclaims A day in flames! Dave we at sac rib c'al cost This day insttrrd? Or have we lostThrough last of heart or want of care, This g,owing link of splendour rare, And weakened, rims, all we retain In our brief chain P Ere fade the gleams in ashes gray, Gan we non rescue from the day Some Mi’.comp eted task or thought That may bean tho morrow wrought? The keystone, ’mid its deeds of worth, Of noble birth ! —Marion N. Clark. THE ART OF DOING- WITHOUT. Thera’s a beautiful art that is sadly neglected, And daily I wonder to see it rejected By some who’d be healthy and wealthy and wise By just condescending to open their eyes And look at things fairly, with never a pout— I refer to the fine art of doing without. “Why, that’s nothing wonderful!” maybe you’ll say: “I do without things I want- every clay I” Quite likely you do. But how do you do it — Wiith good grace, or a face that’s as blue as a bluet? There’s a wonderful difference (just jot that down) Between giving up things with a smile o r a. frown: A.ml that is precisely the difference between The artist and bungler —you see what I moan. You can’t do as you like? Then do as you can ; I'm sure you will find it the very best plan. Can’t have what you want? Take what you cam get ; No better device lias been patented yet. ■ Tis tho bravest and blyt-liest and best way by far Not to let little losses your happiness anar. ’Tiis an art that needs practice; of that there’s no doubt: But ’tvs worth iti —this fine' art of doing without. —-Minnie Leona Upton in “&b Nicholas.”