VAGRANT VERSE

Southland Times, Issue 21198, 26 September 1930, Page 6

VAGRANT VERSE

THE ORETI ANTHOLOGY. 325—POETS OF NEW ZEALAND (Written For 'lhe Southland Times.) Poets of New Zealand, Our truest lords of song, Our brightest bridlikc spirits, To where do you belong? Our lords of song are ladies. Who write for their own good Beneath the urging’s sombre Of Celtic sisterhood. Your heads are full of twilight, ’Tis dew runs in your veins, Your thought is lost in vapour, And sense your muse disdains. You dwell in place of shadows, Your words are blur and haze, Poetesses of New Zealand, Are poets too, such your ways. Rhymsters of New Zealand, I would that you were strong, I would that dear old Ireland Was not so much your song. I would the poets of Ireland, Had come out here to plunder Instead of quietly waiting home, While you girls stole their thunder. •it But there’s no need to worry, For theft its prize shall win; And humble Must pay the price of sin: The weak must fail and suffer, They cannot long endure, And you are not, good ladies, Poetically pure. Alas, you have been playing With words too strangely spelt; A find word, sweet ladies, Drive out the subtle Celt. • —Southerner. Invercargill, September 24, 1930.