From the Poets

Southland Times, Issue 20939, 23 November 1929, Page 23

From the Poets

THE BUTTERFLY. The Butterfly is in love with the Rose; And hovers around her always, But a golden Sunbeam loves him again, And flutters around him all day. But tell me, with whom is the Rose in love That would I know soonest by far; Or is the singing Nightingale? Or the silent Evening Star? I know not with whom is the Rose m love; But I love ye all as ye are; The Butterfly, Sunbeam, and Nightingale, The Rose, and the Evening Star. —Heinrich Heine.

THE WEATHER-VANE. I saw a painted weather-vane That stood above the sands, — A little shining mermaiden That turned and waved her hands. She turned and turned and waved and waved Then faced toward the hill, Then faced about and back again, Then suddenly stood still. And every time the wind came up Out of the great cool sea, She’d spin and spin and whirl her arms As if in dancing glee. And when the wind came down the road With scent of new-mown hay, She whirled about and danced again In ecstasy of play. It seemed as if her madcap heart Could never quite decide Whether her heaven was on the hill Or on the drifting tide. And would she rather be a sprite To guard some singing stream, And sparkle in the summer field And through the forest gleam? Or would she be an ocean child, A spirit of the deep, To run upon the billow’s wild And in their cradle sleep? —Bliss Carman. SILENCE. Silence, the lone mustang Who races thunder, Calls on space to give him Voice for his wonder. Deep and deeper ever ■ Into night he goes, Yet from his still breathing Drops a gold rose. His hoofs of flint Hammer rocks sealed and dumb, Open the.veins Whence mighty rivers come. —Lora Benet.