Among the Poets

Star (Christchurch), Issue 16750, 3 June 1922, Page 4

Among the Poets

[ A Bouquet of Verses jj

THE FIRE IN THE ASHES.

A.nrl oven if the ages rot- away. And roars like petals flutter down the night. There still must be a memory, a light On ancient Time's desirous face where play Eternal iancies v>f a. vanished day. As Wimbling graybeards turn their vacant sight Back in a dream to days of youthful might. So must the world recapture song and ■play. And though the ruins of old things be bleak. A fire burns in the ashes that shall flare Take torches on the reads whereon thev seek Those beautiful, sad shapes that crowd the air : Actseon’s anguish. Atalantn’s race And Homer singing still of Helen’s face. HEKBEUT S. GOItMAN.

THE WIND AND I.

Th-e wind and I were abroad last night : i night ; We sped o’er many a sleeping town: j A few lights twinkled and waved to j us, Ate saw as wo looked down. The wind and I met a misty moon, j Her voice was low and her face was . pale; I \C'e hurried away and we came at ast To the sea, with one little boat a-sail. AVe flew along and we. stopped to blow Upon a fisherman’s cheery face; He gave a smile and lie said: That s good 1” And we flew off into endless space. AA'e skimmed along o’er a brooding wood And kissed the trees, as they staying slept ; . ~ Then, suddenly, Dawn in her milk a robe, Stirring and walking, softly wept. As! It' was cold! And the- wind and 1 Hurried home at the break of day ; 7 to bed and my dear -old friend Over the world, away, away!

THE WAY OF WISDOM.

Yp critics of the modern maid Who think an air demure and staid Best fits a flapper's . station And weep the gentler days gone by, Just half a moment, please, while I Explain the situation. The mother of the girl you strafe | Was bound, too rigidly by half. 1 By grandmamma’s conventions. These ancient laws she now repeals. Lotting gav youth kick up its heels, | All with the best intentions. i Later, the flapper, wiser grown ! And having daughters of her own. | Will leave their plaints unheeded j And exercise that wise control ! Which she, examining her soul. Will know was what she needed. The. faults of those who went before Serve to increase our wisdom s store While moving is to laughter. So surely in a little while Otir sorrows shall provoke a smile To those who follow after. —“DAILY WAIL.”

THE PRAIRIE TOWN.

(From* “ The Bookman.”). Lovers of beauty laugh at this gray town, Where dust lies thick on ragger curbside trees. And compass-needle streets lead up and down And lose themselves in empty prairie seas. Here is no winding seen ted lane, no hill Crowned with a steepled church, no garden wall Of old gray stone where lilacs bloom, and till The air with fragrance when the May rains fall. But here is the unsoftened majesty Of the wide earth where all the wide streets end. And from the dusty corner one may see The full moon rise, and flaming sun descend. The Jong main street, whence farmers’ teams go forth, Lies liko an old sea road, star-pointed north. HELEN SAXTMYER.

THE AWAKENING.

! When I am lapped in dreruns and needs must rise, j To the dull tasks of a December day | Let no loud cart, no milkman’s raucous cries Snatch me from those sweet fanRather the nice crescendo of a knock Upon my chamber door that takes the sense By slow degrees, eliminating shock, And leaves the caller guiltless of offence. But though her gentle summons hath its charm Our -Jane hath not been punctual of late And T have hunted up an old alarm. O! brothers, pity my unhappy fate! I waken in the night to hear it tell The flying seconds with its blatant tick. T dread the hideous clamour of its bell Til! apprehension turns me faint and sick. Tick-tick! Tick-tick! The crawling hours go by Till all sweet, hope of restful sleep is gone Insistent, vulgar, loud. i+ seems to cry. "'Ark at me. guv'nor! Don’t I ca.rry on?" ° Silence!” I yet shall yell,' 5 You soulless brute! Take that!” And forth shall fly the well-aimod boot And de' T il take the early morning train. —TOUCHSTONE.