SELECTED VERSE.

Waikato Times, Volume 93, Issue 15311, 11 August 1923, Page 11 (Supplement)

SELECTED VERSE.

THE SEASIDE. Near the edge of the open sea, Away from stress of toil, 'Tis there I love to sit and watch The curling breakers roll. To feel the breath of salted breeze Caress in gleeful play, Or gently skim from frothy waves The lightest of the spray. To float ’mid cooling waters, yet—> To dive into the deep— Then stretched upon the warming sands Contented—half asleep, To watch the sa&lless boats go by, Until they’re lost to view; And yachts, with snowy wings outspread Against the azure blue. To hear the laugh of happy youth, Ring out on drowsy air, As with their flowing pails of sand They build dream-castles there 1 And wrapped in freedom’s close embrace. With mind and limbs at rest, To linger ’til the sun has dropped Into her golden nest. —Cecile Verral, Cambridge. PEACE IN THE WOOD. In this lone wood, 'Midst glittering leaf and fern and creamy bud, I listen to the melodies profound, As a true lover should. Fragrant the place With unseen bloom, and with a floating grace The bird-notes fall as an embroidered theme Through netted murmur-lace. Hymn of the bees Rifling the orchids in the lofty trees; The plash of water in a distant pool Blown by a furtive breeze Which low and high Beats a quiet rhythm as it flutters by. Sweeping the strings of harps invisible Where branches touch the sky. A whir of wings, And through the melody a blue bird sings A solo in this vast cathedral doom* And far the echo rings. Oh, sweet and sweet— Here will I stay and rest my weary feet. Watching the dappled shadows on the leaves Brighten and fade and fleet 1 Losing all pain As God’s own music soothes my heart and brain, And one with all—-wind, blossom, bird and tree — Peace come to me again. —“Black Bonnets,” in The Bulletin. MIDDAY. The road is like a little child running ahead of me and then hiding behind a curve— Perhaps to surprise me when I reach there. The sun has built a nest of light under the eaves of noon; A lark drops down from the cloudless sky Like a singing arrow, wet with blue, sped from the bow of space. But my eyes pierce the soft azure for, far beyond, To where roam eternal lovers Along the broad blue ways Of silence :—Paxal d’Angelo. HAPPY ENDING. This is the winter snow We dreaded so; And yet the days that shorten. The winds that blow, Seem like a rest and form colour and form light; After a hurrying day a placid night. Perhaps that Death we wish came not so soon. Maybe that dreamed-of gift, That longed-for boon Each man holds in his heart, two vague for words —• Something beyond to-morrow; An end in sorrow; An evening nest for lost, wing-wearied birds! —Margaret Widdcmer, in the ‘Forum.’ WAYS OF LOVE. Men love for such foolish things: Your firm thin hands that pull the bit So easily; your scornful wit. . . I love you for your silver rings. Men love you as they love the south As sweet as spice. Your secret soul They love. I love the little mole That points the corner of your mouth. Men love your carelessness of care. Your passion’s fire, your winged escape. I love you for the little nape Under the dark rebellious hair. •—Rabotte Dcutsch. NOR SEEMS IT STRANGE. Nor seems it strange indeed To hold the happy creed That all things fair that bloom and die Have conscious life as well as I; That not in vain arise The speedwell’s azure eyes, Like stars upon the river’s brink, That shine, unseen of us, and sink. That not for Man is made All colour, light, and shade, All beauty, ripened out of sight— But to fulfil its own delight. —Edmund Gosso. THE FATHER OF THE FOREST. Now from those sinews, year by year, Strength and the lust of life depart; Full of mortality is here The cavern that was once my heart! Mr, with blind arm, in season due, Let the aerial woodman how. For not though mightiest mortals fall, The starry chariot hangs delayed. II is axle is uncoolod, nor shall The thunder of His wheels be stayed. A changeless pace ills coursers keep, And hail, not at Die wells of sleep. —Sir William Watson.