Among the Poets

Star (Christchurch), Issue 16515, 27 August 1921, Page 4

Among the Poets

A Bouquet of Verses

THE BUCCANEER’S BRIDE. Away! Away! O'er the boundless deep We'll merrily, merrily roam: Come, my bride, break the mermaid’s sleep With a song of thy highland home. On the deep they stand, my gallant band, To guard thee, love, o’er the eea, To the spicy isles where the bright enn smiles, # With, his golden fruits for thee. CHORUS. On the deep they stand, my gallant band, To guard, thee, love, o’er the sea; To the spicy isles where the bright S’hq smiles, With his golden fruits for the©. Away! Away! O’er tho boundless deep We’ll merrily, merrilv roam; Cheer up, my bonny bride, nor weep For the joy of thy highland home. In the land of the rose, where the ruby glows With a thousand gems as bright, I’ll deck thy brow, a» the moon dees novr, With lier fairy beams of light. A BYSTANDER’S VIEW. The gowns the pretty maidens wear In this warm season of the year To modest men like me appear To be & trifle shocking; They aren't intendod to conceal; Thiß fact, with others, they reveal— They stop so far above the heel They show just lots of stocking. They’re built of gauze and net and things So frail their aspect always bring** Fear that unlucky happenings May rend them quito asunder; While to mere man’s untutored eye— Kept open a,B fair niaida drift by— There seems of clothes no great supply. Such webbed creations under. Of course, it's no aiTair of mine. So criticism I resign, Content my interest to confine

To quite respectful glances; And yet it does appear to me, These pretty maidens that I see, Garbed as they are, do certainly Take some tremendous chances. CONTRARY MARY. Mary, Mary, quite contrary. Why within your garden tarry So forlorn ? Why, fair girl, so discontented In this place where langonr-soented Love is born. In tbo balm of brown earth fragrant, Mingled with the sunlight vagrant, There's a sigh— And, its essence downward flinging From the sky, a warning's bringing— Lov® is nigh! CHORUS. Contrary Mary, don’t be ecary, Guard your garden wall! Baro little Cupid, snoopy fairy, Finally gets ’em all! And in your breast he'll shaft his dart— I swear this unto you— And pierce your now rebellious heart, For he’s contrary, too! Mery, Mary, quit© contrary. Why of love need you be wary? Banish gloom! A longing's in your white breast growing, Stirring there, a rosebud glowing. And its bloom Will purge your heart, of all resentment, To your garden bring contentment, Singing low^ Of tho love that lovely Mary, Who, at one time, was contrary, Can bestow i THE RETURN. Love closed his door —the Woman turned Laughing disdain and flinging him tho *' Since ’ Fate proves fickle and Deelxe has gone, , , . „„ What is this more aumb mockery to mo. Back bo.© returned —her hadr vub wintry Sad, withered strands where one© thare had been gold— Begging of Love, “ Ah, let me homo agam To all those things I knew ere I was old I THE OUTCAST. Sine© creation’s first beginning, From «■ prehistorio time. In tk© record book of sinning Was inscribed one heinous cr-me. Murderers have been forgivon, Forgers started life anew, Thieves, by penance, have been shrrven, E’en have traitors proven true. But ox shame there is a limit — Charity herself would spurn A depravity so grim it Would make Pity, loathing, turn! Far too kind is Satan’s laughter, And his courts are over-cold, In the August of hereafter, . For tho Man Who Kissed a-. • Told! MY CREED. I bold that Christian grace abounds, Of lov© to men. y hold all else* named, pioty, A selfish scheme, a vain pretense. Where centre is not, can there be Circumference ? This I moreover hold and dare Affirm where’er my Thyme may go, Whatever things be sweet or loir, Love makes them bo. Whether it be the sickle’s rush Through wheat fields, or the - showers, Or by some cabin doop a busn ’ Of rugged flowers. ’Tis not the wide phylactery, Nor stubborn fast, nor stated praters. That makes us saints; wa judge the tree By what it bears. And when a man can live apart From works, on thcologic trust, I know tho blood about his heart \ls dry as dust. —Alic© Cary• THE BUILDERS. Th© year grows old, hut Progress has no Hot flags go forward to increasing light; Behind her lies the night; 7> j 3 a ceaseless war her soldiers wage. And on her great and ever-widening sky, “Onward!” is still tho truceless battle cry. The future is our kingdom, a,ncl, although Our hands unbuild the city they have built, Yet here no blood is spilt _ Nor swords uplifted for a. nation s woe. And, though tho columns and the temples Lot none regret; let no man cry “ Alas!” Wo do but cross a threshold into» day. Beauty we leave behind, A deaper beauty on our path to find And higher glories to illume the way. The door we close behind us ia the Past: Our sons shall find a fairer door at Last. A world reborn awaits us. Yearß to come Shall know its grace and good. When wars shell end in endless brotherhood. And birds shall build in cannon long since dumb. Men shall have peace, though then, no man may know Who built this sunset city long ago. Wherefore, b© glad! Sublimor walls shall Which these do but foretell. Be glad, indeed! For wo have buildod well And set a star upon our western skies "Whose fire shall greaten on a land made Till all that land be bright from sea to seal —Georg© Sterling.