AMONG THE POETS.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 11669, 8 April 1916, Page 8

AMONG THE POETS.

THE QUIET ROOM. And so I find it well to come For deeper rest in this still room. For here the habit of the soul Feels less the outer world's control, And from vhe silenco multiplied By those still forms on every side, The world' that time ana sense has known Falls off, and leaves us God, alone. —Whittier. * * - WINTER.This is the woods we walked through in that summer, Finding a dream's worth in this hallowed place; This is the.still ness that had held' your laughter, And held the flowery vision of your face. Here wero you ~ more to me than all swift taimmers, More than the promise of their glow and gleam; Hero did the dusk lay strange, , dim hands upon us, And still us with the magic of the dream. This is the -woods—but no warm winds come hither. Nor bud nor bloom' nor little dream, at dusk; Winter in woods—and in my heart the winter, Blown blossoms and a dream's too bitter husk. —David iM.orton. V FROM BROWNING. Rejoice we are allied To That which doth provide And not partake, effect and not re-

ceive! , A spark disturbs our clod; Nearer wo hold of God, Who gives, than of His tribes that take, I must believe. Then, welcome each rebuff That turns -earth's smoothness rough, Each sting that bids nor sit nor stand, .but go! Bo our joy 9 three-narts pain I Strive, and hold cheap the strain; Learn, nor acount the pang; dare, Never grudge the throe !• % For thence, a parados Which comforts while it mocks— Shall life succeed' in that it seems to fail; What I aspired to be. And was not, comforts me; A bruto I . might have been, but -would ' K °t. Sink i' the scale. . —R. Browning. , V* " MACHREE." Pray come and interpret this Gaelic for me, And tell what an " Irishman means by " Macliree,' What an Irishman means by "Macliree." 'Tis the white of the d'ay, And the warmth of the sun, _ . The ripple, of -waters that laughingly run, The sweet blocrn of youth, * And the harvest- of years ;: The gold of all smiles, and the salt of all tears. 'Tis the thrill of the hand, And the light of the eye, _ % The glow tp the cheek, and the lips parting cry; 'Tis father, 'tis mother, 'Tis brother or wife. The music of woman's, the wine of man's life. 'Tis all that he lives for, And honss for above, 'Tis an Irishman's heart making vocal his love. 'Tis the whole of creation, One isle in the sea; And that's what an Irishman means by ' "Machreo!" What an .Irishman means by " Ma- * in enree! 4 » > THE HOUSE *OF DREAMS. Beyond the hills, .behind the dawn, across the Seventh Sea, There is a moonlit garden, lass, that • waits for you and me, Where pas't the River Lethe flows, and . bv its brooding streams _ That lovers know, the poppies blow, it is tho House of Dreams.

And when our hearts are weary, and when our eyes are blind, With tears of silent .sorrowings for loves left behind, Deep do wB drink upon its brink, until our fingers meet, And all the past is gone at last, And oh, the draught is sweet!

The heights are high, oh, love o' mine, beyond the vales of pain, Yet shall we seek the_ utmost peak again and yet again; The paths to God our feet hare trod shall lead', like unto thee— Beyond the hills, behind the dawn, across the Seventh Sea. * *

LIFE. What am I, Life? A thing of watery salt . . Hold in cohesion by unresting cells , Which work they know not why, which never halt; Myself unwitting where their Master dwells. • I do not bid them, yet they toil, they spm A world which me as I use_ them. Nor do I know which end or which bcgin, Nor which to praise, which pamper, which condemn.

So, like a marvel in a marvel set, I answer to the vast, as wave by wave The sea of air goes over, dry or wet, Or the full moon comes swimming from her cave, Or the great sun conies north; this myriad I Tingles, not knowing how, yet wondering why. —John MastSeld.

- YOU. If voir no more should love me —you? It takes my tyreath, a thought so strange As that aught earthly could' your spirit AVOO To change! Remote from doubt, I dwell secure In faith all minor faiths above. So do I trir-T-, so livo, in your Incomparable lore! I laugh for joy to think how much A question would your nature Tvrong, Whom heaven created, with a noble touch. So strong! Nay; doubt, for me, new born were ever. You will remain unchanged and true— Not, not. that I am I, my lover, But just that you are you! —Floraneo Earle Coates. in the " Athemeum." * * A FRAGMENT. If there be anyone can take my place And make you happy whom I grieve to grieve, " Think not that I can grudge it, but believe I do command you to that nobler grace, That roadiar wit than mine, that sweeter face; Yea. since your riches make me rich, conceive I tcc am crowned. ivhilo bridal crowns I weave, And thread the bridal dar.ee with jocund pace. For if T did not. love you, it might bo That I should grudge you some one dear delight; But since the heart is yours that was mine own, Your pleasure is my pleasure, right my right, Your honourable freedom makes m© free. And yen companioned' I am not alone. —Christina G. R<Jsetti»