Among the Poets

Star (Christchurch), Issue 16780, 8 July 1922, Page 4

Among the Poets

A Bouquet of Verses [

M I D-DAY. “ Tile road is like a. little child runningahead of me and then hiding behind a curve— Perhaps to surprise me when I renen there. i “ The sun has built a nest of light under the eaves of neon ; A lark drops down from the cloudless sky Like a singing arrow, wet with blue sped from the bow or space. 44 But my eyes pierce the soft azure, far, for beyond. To where roam eternal lovers Along the broad blue ways Of silence.” —Pascal D’Angelo. ANTICIPATIONS. “ I love preliminary things. The tuning-up of flutes find strings ; The little scales musicians play In varying keys to feel their way , The hum—the hush in which it dies; But most to see the curtain rise. “I love preliminary things, The little box the postman brings. To cut the twine, to break the seals, And wonder what the lid reveals; To lift the folds in which it lies And watch the gift materialise. “ The snowdrop and the daffodil. The catkins hanging straight and still, The blossom on tile orchard trees. Do you know greater joys than these? Each represents the hope that springs In all preliminary things.” —J.R. J. THE SEWING BASKET. (A wedding present to Winifred Roberts). (From the London “Spectator.”) TO WINIFRED The day she’s wed (Having no gold) I send instead This sewing basket, And lovingly Demand that she, If ever wanting help from me, Will surely ask it. Here’s one place full OF coloured wool. And various yam With which to dam, A sampler, too, I’ve worked fox you Lettered from A to Z, The text of which In small cross-stitch Is LOVE TO WINIFRED. Here’s a rag-doll wherein To thrust the casual pin. His name is Benjamin For his ingenuous face: Be sure I've not forgotten. Black thread or crocket cotton; AVliile Brussels lace Has found a place Behind the needle-case. (But the case for the scissors ? Empty as yi-u see. Love must never be sundered Between you and me.) Renja-min’s song He sings all day long. Though his voice is not strong He hoarsely holloas More or less as follows ! Button boxes Never have locks-es For the keys would soon disappear. But here’s a linen button With a smut on, And a big bone button With a cut on. A pearly and a fancy Of small significancy. And the badges of a Fireman and a Fusilier. He’ll learn to sing more prettily When you take him out to ItalyOn your honeymoon, (0. come back soon !.) To Florence or to Rome The prim a donnas* home, To Padua or to Genoa AY here tenors all sing tra-la-la. • * Good-bye. AVinifred. Bless.your heart. Ben. Gome bnck happy And safe agen. - - Robert Graves TO LIFE. (From the “Boston Transcript.”) From dawn to eve, and through the dark hours’ flight Until the sun comes back, I drink and eat, With steady thankfulness and heart’s warm beat. The rations. Life, you grant my day and night. Of you, in quiet sense. I have delight AY hen from world’s blare and fuss my thoughts retreat. Hurt by the surly usage that they meet. Or irked by fancies grown too stale and trite. Even should doubt so with my spirit cope That it despoiled me of my highest hope, Still would I, Life, keep for you words of cheer. Still greet you with glad lip and sparkling eye. Still hold your form and feature very dear ; Then buoyantly, at last, give you goodbye A r et hash ! Sweet Life, I know not what T say When thus my words bespeak you partial prf.ise. Just for bestowal of these earthly days, As if your gifting had no other way! Forgive the indolence of mortal clay, The sloth of mind that suffers dust and haze To hide the sky and far off, deep blue maze Of mountain heights! Forgive me, Life, I pray ! For in my mere surrender of desire I feel you taunting me; I fee! your fir© Steal through mv veins, O ’Life, to bid me yearn, And in that yearning wake an unknown thrill Whoso urge shall clear my sight and all doubt spurn Mv soul is vours, Life, has new days to fill. William Strut-hers.