DOLES.
A PRIZE POEM FROM THE BOOKMAN. The loveliest things on the earth are free, A tulip abloom or a bursting tree, The grass on the hill-tops at set of sun Like a Turkish carpet with the patterns run. The grace of the willows bending to look For the pale lace of Narcissus hid in the brook. The dance of the poppies in the wind at noon With faces a-scarlet for the joy of the tune. A bird’s mottled breast as It swoops to the earth. , And the flight of its song in its crazy mirth. The dragonflies’ whirr, like the music of strings. And the cool touch of water from forest-deep springs. And fleer-footed things in the 'hush of some ■wood In the joy of .moss beds and its leafy hood. The jewel in the dark from the lightning’s lap. , And the fugue of the thunder in its clap upon clap. O. God. do You know when You gave beauty f ree Y’ou put a strange cry in the heart of me. And may I be dead at the newllng of Spring If I fail to respond to each beauteous thing. —L. C. Lesley House. Christchurch, New Zealand. James Stephens. Ireland’s famous poet, makes love a mad thing—not so new an idea, but he has a novel wav of saying it in the New Statesman (London) :
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Bibliographic details
Otago Witness, Issue 4041, 25 August 1931, Page 64
Word Count
227DOLES. Otago Witness, Issue 4041, 25 August 1931, Page 64
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