COSY CORNER CLUB.

Otago Witness, Issue 2327, 6 October 1898, Page 51

COSY CORNER CLUB.

My Dear Comrades, — We may, I think, congratulate ourselves warmly on the contributions sent in for the first meeting of our club. Personally, I desire to thank mosfc sincerely all of you who have so ably coma to my assistance. I trust as the idea is morrf fully grasped and you realise the pleasant; sense of- companionship, " involved and the incentive to culture by expressing opinions in writing and looking up and verifying quotations, that the contributions will be, doubled and trebled. As it is, I consider our start most encouraging, an opinion which, you will cordially endorse in half an hour's time, I am sure. Our topic, if you remember, was, to quota exactly the question, "What is in your: opinion the highest and best definition of Love given by any modern poet? Giver quotation, and your reasons for admiring ifc. " I shall give the contributions as they arrhed rather than in such order of merit as they might appear to me to deserve, and my reason for doing this is that, all other things being equal, one quotation will appeal to one reader and another equally excellent;, awaken no response — such things being entirely a matter of taste and opinion. Here, then, is " Mondaine's " selection, and an excellent one it is, with the vigour of life and the ring of "true metal" — manly loyal, and withal as practical and fitted to everyday use as prose itself I .Dear Emmeline, — It seems to me that Whyte-Melville, in "True Metal," gives a pel feet definition of strong, unselfish, enduring love — love so comprehensive that neither time nor trial can weaken its infinitude. TRUE METAL. For this ■ is love, and this alone, Not counting cost nor grudging gain, That builds its life into a throne, And bids the idol reign. That hopes and fears yet seldom pleads, And for a sorrow weakly borne (Because it yields not words, but deeds;, Can hide a gentle scorn. In pride and pique that take no 'part, Of self and sin that bears no taint, The homage of a knightly heart For a woman and a saint. Such, love will wear throtigh shine ans shower, Such love can bear to bide its time, Unwearied at the vesper hour Ad when the matins chime. Though hate itself be fain to shrink, It freely ventures lose or win ; And friendship shivers on the brink While love leaps boldly in. And love can strive against a host, Can watch and wait and suffer long, Still daring more when fearing most, Its very weakness strong. Though bruised and sore, it never dies, Though faint and weary, standing fast, It never fails; and thus the prize Is won by love at last. MONDAINE. " Sepia " has chosen Tennyson as her mouthpiece, and I confess that, dearly as I love Tennyson, and fancied I knew his works too well to be " posed " by any quotation from them, I cannot locate this.. When next you write, " Sepia," will you say. in what poem it occurs? It seems to me to be in his earlier style. That is a fine line, 'Twere joy, not fear, clasp't hand ia hand with, thee, To wait for death. It brings to the mind Watts's splendid picture of "Love Triumphant" in this shear's Academy. Dear Emmeline, — As I am living in the QQUAtEV-*. foe from civilisation I may sasv'

■where the Witness is an acquisition, and the Ladies' page not the least important part of it, I am looking forward with pleasure to your O. C. Club. I am a constant reader of the Ladies' page, and have accepted your kind invitation and sent a contribution, •which if you see fit to publish I hope will have complied with your rules. With best wishes for your Cosy Corner Club : If I were loved as I desire to be, What is there in the great sphere of the earth, And lange of evil between life and birth, That I should fear, if I were loved by thee? All the inner, all the outer world of pain Clear love would pierce and cleave if tnou wert mine, As I have heard that somewhere in the main Fresh water springs come yip through bitter brine. -'Twere joy, not fear, clasp't hand in hand with thee, -, To wait for death, mute, careless of all ills, Apart upon a mountain, tho' the surge Of some new deluge from a thousand hills Flung leagues of roaring foam into the gorge Below us, as far on as eye could see. > • — Tennyson, i i -Tho beauty of this description by Tennyson 1 lies in the all-sufficiency of love to satisfy ! lamidst all joys or fears, and its inspira- ' ,'tion to make us strong to bear whatever 1 ' fortune may be in store for us, and set our- j selves to our beloved liike perfect music unto noble words, Self-reverent each and reverencing each. Sepia. ' " Mollies" choice is one we shall all j applaud, the charm and power of associa- ! tion, like the dear voice of mine own familiar / friend, rendering the great words dearer, i ], Of all the "Idylls of the King," " Guinever" \ /_ is the one which rises to the highest and ! I. noblest heights, the divinity of sorrow, of | suffering, of forgiveness, rising above that -temble picture of a shamed court, a desolate king, and a ruined kingdom, which •constitute the tragedy of woman's weakness ''- and man's falseness. I take it for granted ; that every member of our club, every reader ; of our column, has read " The Idylls of the King," but what delight lies before the Teader whom "Mollies" extract stimulates to read " Guinever " for the first time ! ■ To reverence the king as if he were Their conscience, and their conscience as their ,' king ; i To break the heathen and uphold the Christ, .; ,To ride abroad, redressing human wrongs, To speak no slander; no, nor listen to it; 4 -,To honour his own word as if his God's; " -To lead sweet lives in purest chastity, 3?o love one maiden only, cleave to her, And worship her by years of noble deeds Until they won her. — Tennyson. It seems to me that in three words of Tennyson, although they are intended to shadow forth merely the King's ideal, and not to be ; an exponent of sentiment, we have one of i the fullest and clearest expositions of love j in English literature. It is the poignant ] v command of Christ when he says, " Love thy neighbour as thyself " explained and set forth in language most beautiful, and to live up to even a little of its unselfish nobility would be to realise a loving life of Christianity such as is seldom realised on earth. To ride abroad redressing human wrongs, dealing with our neighbours' sorrows as - ours, suffering with their suffering, and seeking only to remove their grief; neither to desseminate nor encourage vile speaking, that curse of society; to treat our lightest promise as a solemn bond or obligation, and fulfil it at whatever cost to ourselves; to live pure lives, fighting our hardest against our own sins, shutting the door with our own hands upon our weaknesses and their indulgence; to cling to our love humbly and faithfully, only seeking to make ourselves worthy of the loved one by years of lov* and labour, recognising all the time ■what the influence of a pure, all-absorbing love may prove amid our life and its temptations, great and small; to live such a life as this, it seems to me, would be to live the 'life of a Christian — unselfish, noble, tender, true — loving his neighbour as himself, and / devoting himself, soul and body, to the • cause of right and purity, and humanity at large. MOLLIB. "Jed," I am pleased to see, finds her epitome in pages whose beauty we are apt ;to overlook in these days. In our devotion to Tennyson, Browning, Longfellow, Whittier, and — Rudyard Kipling, we aresome- ' isphat forgetful of the charms of many of our most charming poets, Byron and Moore in th every forefront. Brief, comprehensive, an.l of the purest feeling, these lines of Bjfon's are most happily chosen by "Jed," a conspicuous jewel from the treasures of one of our most graceful jjpels.,

' Devotion wafts the soul above, But heaven itself descends in love, i A feeling from the Godhead caught, To wean from self each sordid thought, A ray of him who formed the whole, A glory circling round the soul. " The Giaour."' — Byron, i '* Love " is such aa elastic word — it admits of so many definitions; but perhaps ! Byron strikes the highest note in the foregoing lines. Love weaned from self — surely an attribute of God! Through the mysterious gates of love we enter a wonderful land glowing with bright flowers, many worthy to be culled and borne, proudly and tenderly, with us on our journey. But hasten on, for far ahead shines the everlasting flowers of unselfish love, lit with a ray from Him who first kindled the divine spark in our breasts. Many turn aside to pluck the bright blossoms of love in idleness, or the richer and purer ones growing in our home gardens, but few care to tread the stony path leading to the goal Ami. those who wear the flower of self-sacrificing love — "giving all, forgiving all," and seeking nought in return — have not \ they attained the highest? We can all be \ unselfish at times, but too few have that large j and generous love of mankind which enables i them to despise no task, however lowly, I that may bring joy or comfort to one sad ■ soul. Jed. "Clematis" has my own conviction that \ "brevity is the soul of wit," and the quo- j tation she gives us from Moore is as brief as ' happy, in that it draws from her a few lines of pleasant and thoughtful comment. I do not know the poem in which the line occurs, but shall take the first opportunity of looking it up. Dear Emmeline, — I see you are inviting contributions from readers of the Ladies' pagj on what they consider the best definition of love by any modern poet. Now lam a constant and appreciative reader of your column, especially enjoying your "Chats Ove* 1 the Teacups," and therefore thought I wculd write and tell you how much I sympathise with your latest idea, the " Cosy Corner." lam certain it will prove a great success and all your readers will look forward to it with real interest. In reading Moore's works the other day : I came across a line which is in my opinion an excellent definition, of love: Love is the saint enshrined in thy breast is the line I refer to. It occurs in one of Me ore's poems entitled "Love and the Novice." This definition possesses that quality without which no definition is perfect — brevity. Then the sentiment it gives utterance to is pure and elevating. It also betrays an optimistic belief in human nature. As I read it the underlying thought the poet means to convey to us is that deep in our inmost souls is the capability of sublime self-sacrifice and devotion, that though our feet are in the dust our heads are in the clouds, and our natures only a little lower than the angels'. These are my reasons for considering that Moore's i definition is very hard to eclipse. Clematis. i " Interested," a valued and distant correspondent, while lamenting his inability to get access to any good library in order to ! verify vague recollections -which will not taki shape in quotations, writes thus : I hope that numbers of men as well as women will become members of the "Cosy Crrner Club " and take part in discussions which lam sure will be interesting. In the Witness of December 26, '95, there is a little poem which I beg to enclose. It is the best [ ani highest definition of love by a modern ! poet which I can lay my hands on just now. I do not admire poets very much, so that I am not much at home in their works : LOVE. As young Nature once was blending All her beauties, one by one, Love, from azure lands descending, Made obeisance to the sun; But the world her presence slighted, And she wandered far and nigh, Till by Hordidlness affrighted She vanished to the sky. And since then ofttirnes returning "For a moment's fleeting span, Throbs her breast, in pity mourning For the erring race of man; > And tho rosy rays of pleasure, And the light that fades apace, Are the glimpses that we treasure Of the beauty of her face. —P. E. Nolan. South Dunedin. If I might quote from prose, I would quote "Alien, in the book in which she makes weman royal, and in another book makes man majestic, and in doing so, if I understand "Alien" rightly, shows that love all comes from God. God is love — love is a perfect part of His great whole — of that per- | ±ect place, Heaven, just as joy and peace I are other perfect parts. Here in this world the aforesaid carts are. only in denies and

however far we may reach, towards perfection we cannot hope to attain it in this world. Though " Interested " declares he does not admire poets, I am inclined to think it is because he has, in slang parlance, never | given poetry " a show." I shall be much | surprised if he does not admire and tho1 roughly enjoy some of the poetry quoted at to day's meeting. " Mondaine's " extract from Whyte-Melville, for instance, will go straight to his heart, I think. la conclusion, I shall give my own modest contribution to quotation — for I suppose you will expect one from me — merely remarking that like all journalists I am so in love with the wit, the power of expression, the power tha>: can concentrate, and lose nothing by brevity that you must not wonder at my choice : Love took up the Harp of Life and smote on all the chords with might : Smote the chord of self that, trembling, passed in music out of sight. So life is love, and love is annihilation of self. Self, touched by love, not only dies, but dies a beautiful death, making life richer by the music of his requiem.