Selected Verse

Waikato Times, Volume 123, Issue 20693, 31 December 1938, Page 13 (Supplement)

Selected Verse

FOR THE NEW YEAR New thoughts, if old ones sear and scar, New dreams, where old ones withered lie, New joys, where old ones vanished are, New hopes, should old ones droop and die* New hearts that throb with warmth of noon New songs that bring a sweeter tune, So may we know them—you and 1. New courage for the tasks to be, New lessons from the days gone by, T New faith, new' love, new charity, New splendour in the blue of sky New deeds, and better than the old, New tales, by fairer fortune told, So may w r e hear them—you and I. New days, when diligent we build New castles of enduring good, New deeds by strength and purpose willed New hopefulness, new brotherhood. New trust that bides and never ends. New blessings showered on old friends, New faith in heaven, new gratitude. —James W. Foley. BY THE SHORE !\ THE FALL The beach is mine, to-day. . . . Summer’s gay throngs have departed: Two gulls and a small piper may Share it. for I am broad-hearted. Never were waves more bright, Cobalt, with crystal edges, Driving with gentle might Transparent water-wedges Upon the hard-packed sand. . . . The gulls, with sharp, coarse cry Leave me; outward they fly Skimming the water, while I Am alone on the sea-washed land. —Mildred Nickerson. t

I SING AS I WORK I sing: as I work! And fill my days With an endless pean of grateful praise; For life holds much to be glad about, And little enough to be sad about— As I measure the breadth of God’s wondrous ways, And sing as I work! I sing as 1 work! My heart grows strong, And the burden that seemed so hard and long, s With its weariness and corroding care, Grows beautifully less with each tuneful As I lift my thought on the wings of song, And sing as I work! —Elsie Hill Ainsworth. THERE ARE NO WALLS Hpfp where the path begins, it’s bright Where birches catch the frosty light, And birches are all frosted through With little moons of heavy dew. This brilliance beats upon the field And feeds a crop it could not yield By day: great fruits that twine Upon the white persistent vine Of light; pale flowers grown too high Beneath the sweet commanding sky. I'he creatures of the woodland stir With rime upon their ruffled fur; The meadow echoes with the beat And thudding of small velvet feet. 1 here are no nests, no holes, no walls For those on whom the moonlight falls. —Elspeth Bragdon.