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VERSE OLD AND NEW

What My Life is Like. My life like the shattered wreck, <’ast by the waves npvn the shore; The broken mast, the rtrten deck, Tell of the shipwreck that is o’er. Yet from the noirs of the storm The mariner his raft will form Again lu tempt the faithless sea; Hut hope rebuilds no barque for me. My life is like the blighted oak, That lifts its sere and withered form, firathed by the lightning’s sudden stroke, Sternly to meet the coming storm, let round tb it sapless trunk will twine The curling tendrils of the vine; And lit - and freshness there Not to the passion-blighted heart. My life is like the desert rock, In the midocean, lone and drear, Worn by the wild waves’ ceaseless shock That round its base their surges Yet there the sea-moss still will cling, Feme flower will find a icleft to spring; And breathe e’en there a sweet perfume; For me life’s flowers no more win bloom. My life is like the desert waste, By human footsteps seldom pressed; The eye no freshness there can trace; No verdant spot on which to rest. Yet e'en among these sandes so drear The Stork will tend her young with care—» E on there the notes of joy impart, But naught can cheer my lonely heart. —Robert Emmett Houe. © © © They Never Return. Umbrellas strayed from clubland’s halls , <’ome back, though not in silk; The man who gocth out to balls Returneth with the milk. The swallows come again with spr ; »g, That flit when summer’s spent; But ail the seasons fail to bring Me back the books I lent. My* senses strayed when Celia smiled, — . Hr.a nee her eyes were black, But now’ do more by love beguiled, I‘vt* got them safely back. y My heart I gave returned to me AS lightly as it went; E’en hopes long lost once more I see, But not the books I lent. Ab things return; in twilight gray. Day dies to dawn anew; * The beef that’s sent b.elow to-day Will make to-morrow’s stew; The bill cofl’ector cometh back -vWith covetous intent. Ai tilings return except, alack’. The, books that 1 have lent. They stood in “Russia” side by side, TJiry . filled one rosewood shelf;- 1. They re now belonging, far and wide, To--any but myself. Oh! take my word, tins world of pain Will lizzie out and end Before you’ll ever sec again The books-—the you lend. / — Booklover’s Verse. © © © ’ Fortune’s Failures. Home say the gods are fickle. Not at all! Hast ne’er within the workshops shaded wall - ■ Wrought what seemed good and puffed thcc great with pride, -vt Y< i seen in midday glare ’twas mean and small? « Oft I. in walking through the marketplace... llaxc happened, unexpected. face to face With sonic unworthy bit of mine own craft, And cringed beneath its failure and disAnd. with a- folding of disgust ami shame, Have sought and tossed it back into the flume. That none might know how fully could I fail. May our Creator never feel the same? FTIIELI.TN BREWER DE FOE- © © © Inter Sodales. Dvcr a pipe tin* Angel of Conversation Loosens with glee the tassels of his purse, And. in a fine spiritual exaltation, Hastens, a rosy, spendthrift, to disburse •flip coins’irew-miiiied of imagination. A- amiiiblc. a delicate animation Difornp; our thought, and earnest we reMuw . . • ■ t .’ Tin* sweet old farce of mutual admiration •Over a pl|»c. Heard in this hour’s delicious divagation. How soft (he song! the epigram how terse? . * With what a genius for administration We rearrange the rumbling universe, And map the coursq of man’s regeneration Over a pipe. — W. Hen lay*. -i.

At the Bargain Sales. The shades of night were falling fast. As through a bargain sale there passed A maid, who’d lingered till the hr t, J list shopping. ■ ’ Her mien was sad, her face looked worn; Her hat was crushed, her dress was lorn. She’d jostled there since early morn, Just shopping. “Oh, stay,’’ the salesgirl said, “and see This lovely silk at four-and-threc A yard.” She answered, “None for me, I’m shopping.” At six o’clock, as homeward went The saleswoman, on pleasure’ bent, They left her there by accident, Still shopping. A watchman making, late, his round, Was scared by an unwonted sound; On the third floor- the maid he found} , Just shopping. There, in the twilight, cold and gray. Sauntered the maid, who’d shopped all day. And nothing bought to lake away—Still shopping. —Old Scrap-Book. © © © The Vampire City. Come with mo into Babylon! Here to my woodbind seat. v. . • • Over the miles she hires and smiles—the smile of the bitter-sweet; I hear the distant cadence, the siren-song she sings; I smell the incense burning where her great red censer swings. Out of the night she calls mo, the night that is her day; J see the gleam of her million lights a thousand miles away; As the roar ol\ a mighty army I hear her pulses beat With the tramp of the restless vandals, the rush of the wearied feet. Ever and ever onward a white procession ' goes; - •* - - Youths- with .the strength of lions, maids with the breath of the rose— Toward her. but never from her, throned on her armoured isles: They give her their lives for homage, but the City only smiles. They know that her breasts are poison; they know that her lips are lies. And half revealed is the death concealed in the pools of her occult eyes; » Yet still she is calling ever, and echo is never chimb: • ' Follow us into Babylon! Mistress of Life, we come! — Reginald Wright Kauffman. © © © A Change of Subject. We took an auto ride one day, - My lover bold and J. And swiftly o’er the country roads We joyfully did fly. I’d no idea machines would lot > ‘ One sentimental he— You should have heard the things Tom said Sub rosa then to me! The air was sweet with country scents; It was a' glorious ride— Then-miles from help, the motor »ved—Some trouble underside. I’d no idea machines would make A man such passion feel, But. qh. yon should have heard the things Toni said sub automobile! © © © To My Cat. Half-loving kindliness, and half-disdain. Then coinesl to my call serenely suave. With humming speech and gracious gestures grave. In salutation courtly and urbane: Yet must I humble me thy grace to gain— For wiles may win thee, but no arts enslave. And nowhere gladly thou abidest save YVhere naught disturbs the concord of thy reign. Spilnx of my quiet hearth! who delgnst to Owe’!. Friend of my toil, companion of mine Thine is’the lore of Ha and Ramenes: That men forget dost thou remember well, Beholden still in blinking reveries. Witli sombre sea-green gaze inscrutable. - Graham K. Tomson. 1 © © © The Wise Man’s Almanac. . .Thr.v ain’t no os 1 kin sec, In mortals, srch cs you an’ me, 'A-faulting Nature’s wise intents. An’ lockin’ horns with Providence. It ain’t no use to grumble an’ complain; It’s jest as cheap an’ easy to rejoice; When Cod sorts out the weather an’ sends rain - . :Wtoy, rntoi t?-H>y ylivlcej. ; . wi

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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/periodicals/NZGRAP19070406.2.38

Bibliographic details

New Zealand Graphic, 6 April 1907, Page 26

Word Count
1,190

VERSE OLD AND NEW New Zealand Graphic, 6 April 1907, Page 26

VERSE OLD AND NEW New Zealand Graphic, 6 April 1907, Page 26