VERSE OLD AND NEW

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXVII, Issue 24, 15 December 1906, Page 31

VERSE OLD AND NEW

I*ove’« Grave. Here there is nothing but is linked with you In some strange . evanescent fashion, The ashes of an outworn passion, The bitter sweetness of a love untrue. Here in this garden with its sun and shade Fantastic shadows darkly tracing. We have worn pathways with our pacing Before your love in its quick grave was laid. . fio great the spell upon me that I look 'l*o see you yet some book perusing. Or, hands in lap, fall’ll to sweet, musili« . .. Above the love-writ pages of your hook. Here, where the roses play at hide and Each hud some grave of you revealing, Each tree a memory appealing, 1, turning, half expect to hear you speak. I know that you have left this' garden That in its heart dead Jove is lying, . The love you said should he undying, Yet I with it a cheating fancy slmre. For al- its blooms peep through their leaves for you, In search of you the birds are winging, For you the fountain still is singing— Forgetfulness is not for? us. who knew. Nor till" the twdiglß shadows softly slie»t Upon this garden \fair’ are lying Can 1 believe these flowers sighing Arc strewn upon the grave of love now dead. # # O O & “ "La. Dame Des Fleurs.” I rest in the earth ’mid snaky roots, Warm -as a sleeping moth. The bear budded shoots Eike cones of Ashtaroth my deep blue eyes so- mhd-behung, From mine .eyes, from mine eyes are the :ris sprung!; ly • ■ - I‘. sleep in the dark ’mid life a-thriil .. As birds within the boughs. Red poppies line the ’.gentle bill . Where meadow-grasses’ ‘'drowse. ei my sweet, soft tips so laughter-fed, From my lips, from my lips are the poppies bred! My palaeo is. the dark earth-bed And 1 am slumber’s bride. The sunflow’r with drooping head Drcams by the cool pool-side. O my fair, long locks so gold-inblown. From my locks, from my locks are the snufknvTs grown! The night swoons at the kiss of day, Yet 1, have naught but night. In the garden-close red roses pray And tremble ‘neath the light. . O my sore. dead heart so flame-love torn, Of ti>y heart, of my heart arc the roses bein’ O&o O # - The Girl Graze. ■ . Where have the women gone? Or where Shall I a woman find... In yerse, in prose,, in picture . fair As once they were enshrined? Girls — only girls — are now the rage— On poster, ad., -and sign - Girls, by the score, 'on printed page— A girl for every line. Girls, with strange offerings - of soap. Flour, hair-dye, phosphates, mhlk. Typewriter, mattress, motor, rope, Cheese, door-scree us, spools of silk. A girl witji. eap 3 a girl with hat, A girl with braid ’and curl. B<dU mantle,, skirt—no matter what— As long as it’s a-girl! Her smiling teeth, her. .dimples sweet, - Her ankle’s fluff of lace, The daub of pow<W her . cheek, Her garter-strap in’ place; Her naked arm, her -shoulder bare, Her foot in slipper small, Her waist in corset, % cJite—these are Iler poses—but — not. all! Now. could these maturer grow < And get soirie ' sort of sense, * It might relieve our minds — for, oh? The tension, now, is tense! And, since we’re ..not all boys — since we, A few of us,. ar<J-Alien-- - Would we coyld read of, meet, or see A woman once agflhi! Telepathy. No word is spoken, neither need there b<b Across* the board a message comes to me; 1 catch its meaning — there Is no mis,take — My wito lutorn. mw.we’ve rua out..of cake!

A Warning. Mary, Mary, quite contrary, ‘ Tell me, Mary, tell me true — Tern’s a darling lad. but dare hr, Mary, Mary, marry you? Dirk’s a loving boy, hut wary, Ami you’ll find, though visionary, Harry very wary, loo! Mary, Mary, quite contrary. Tell me, Mary, tell me I rue— Do you think such arbitrary Treatment of your beaux will do? Think, now -— youth’s but temporary, Lovers’ tempers often vary— - - Often Jong for something new! Mary, Mary, quite contrary, Tell mo, Mary, tell me true— Do you love a solitary Life — who flout the lads who woo? -Coyness may be necessary— Stubbornness is not. Be chary, Or you’ll soon be wearing rue!* *A»»d! the rhyming dictionary Isn’t yet half hunted through! 0 Ct 0 » & Immigrants. BY WILLIAM ASPEN WALL BRADLEY. Each ship doth bring them; see where lost they stand In huddled groups, and stare from side- to side Upon the curious crowds whose looks deride -• Their peasant faces, garments strange that bund Them aliens: in their far-off . native land Each had his place, though lnunl.de; here the tide Sweeps him along, an animal dull-eyed. Patient, submissive. What mysterious hand Has thus uprooted from their ancient place Those myriad exiles, vast them on our shore, And what the purpose? Shall our country be" The. crucible of nations whence a race Shall issue in dim ages to restore Gods image to -mankind, and make men free? & 8 O & & A Mystery. Upon her check the blushing rose Blooms red amid the snow. 11 seems to thrive in such a soil; Then why, 1 want to know, •Carmu the seed of love he me. de In he.’ cold heart lo grow? MA 11G A HET RO 11E. 0 0 0 3$ “ Shouting.’’ Bill Jones went to the grocer’s shop To buy a po.und of tea, And said to Johnson, standing there, ’’Will you liaye one with me?” And Johnson said he didn’t mind . (He tioved Bill: like a brother); They had two pounds, then Johnson sala, "Wed -better have another.” Then Smith came in and Jones proposed Thpy’<l have, another pound; Ami then they stood till Brown came in And shouted tea all round. And there they stayed for several houi> As happy as could be,’Til! each one of the party had . Some fourteen pounds of tea. Aiid every one who saw them said "What‘fools those fellows be, To stand around here all day long A-shouting pounds of tea!” Had they been shouting whiskey, schnapps, . And brandy, rum, and beer. Until they all got • drunk. It would not seem so queer; But tilings that they could cart away, And use some other time’. What absolute absurdity; In fact, almost a crime! True friendship can alone be shown By wilful waste of wealth; And as men hate to feel too well. They "drink each other’s health.” —W. T. Goodgc (“The Colonel.’’). O a £t The Gnu Wooing. There was a lovely lady gnu Who browsed beneath a spreading yew. Its stately height was her delight; A truly cooling shade it threw! Upon it little tendrils grew Which gave her gentle joy to chew. Yet oft she sighed, a-giizlng wide, And wished she knew another gnu newer gnu beneath the yew To tell her tiny troubles to). »»» o o It Would Not Rise. • .' ....: , “Money has wings and flies away. I’ve heard,” said the man witli the scar; •Hut I’ve puls lots of cash In a Hying machine, . -■ - let it never has flown very far.”