Verse Old and New

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XL, Issue 15, 11 April 1908, Page 50

Verse Old and New

With Cnpid as Chauffeur. The load lies white beneath the light Of a rising honeymoon. And the rushing sound as the wheels spin ’round Swings into an old love-tune. Arid every rut on the road of life Is seen through a rosy blur; But there’s never a fear that the way’s not dear With Cupid as chauffeur. And little the care if the neighbours stare, As they speed through the land of dreams, While the old love-light as a signal bright Ahead bn the highway gleams. And there’s never a hilt of care so steep But succumbs to the gentle stir That is bound to start in a lover’s heart With Cupid as chauffeur. So speed they may on their primrose way To Arcadian lands afar. May they travel fast till they step at last In their wedding touring-car. And grant them this, oil. lad who feels A love that is" strong for her, May the ride extend to the journey’s end, With t.'iipid as chauffeur.. © © © . - > A Full Man. My brain is a chaos of junk, My thoughts are in fragments and . shreds, I’m lost in a fog of blue fund, My drcams come in tatters and threads, I’ip gj,veu to, visions and frights. My,darkness is peopled with spooks,. I’m wakeful and nervous o’ nights-- c ‘ I’ve ; j(ad ,the .Season's new I haven’t a single sane thought,- 7 '’Tin'al! "in a'ferment and ifbt, You may think I’m mad. but I’m not;" " Berhaps ’twill be’ soon, but Writ yet; I’ve sobbed with ten sweethearts a day, V Sought treasures in long hidden nooks, Booked on many a gory affair — I’ve read al! the Season’s new books. I’Vb travelled from circle to pole. I’ve ridden with ladies and knights, I’ve witnessed the wreck of a soul And mixed in uncountable fights; I’veietruggled with problems so vast I’m dizzy witTi turns, twists, and crooks, My reason is failing me fast--1 ve read all the Season’s new books. My mind is a victim forlorn Of book indigestion acute. With helmeted squires I’ve sworn And stormed feudal castles to boot. I’ve run the whole gamut and scale, Including Odsblood and Gadzooks, My reason’s beginning to fail — I’ve read all the Season’s new books. Blue, yellow, green, purple, and gold, I’ve turned back t he covers ana read, I’ve felt my heart grow icy cold. And fevk-r grow hot in my head; Oh, grant me asylum, repose. Where ale no editions de luxe, My cup of confusion o’ertfows — I’ve read all the Season’s new hooks, "New York Times.’’ © © © A Woman’a Way. A woman's way is aye repleto Witj: mystery: she doth secrete Within her heart the first dim ray Of love, yet makes her lover say The words that bring him to her feet. Ah! subtle chaims and influence sweet! Pool man! You may not e’er compete With that stiange thing with which you play ’ • <• A woman’? way. And n<» >h< weaves her toils complete, Bo fanciimting, ho |H*tite! Man’s indepondence fades away, < Until he I’iiklh hinwolf a prey To that from which there’# no retreati A woman’** way. * f

A Personal Panic A man there was who had some cash He put it in the bank, To leave it there he vowed was rash, One day when values sank. And so he hastened down the street And stood out in the. rain, With anxious heart and weary feet, And drew it out again. And through the night he thought of thieves And all a-tremble heard The lightest quiver of the leaves Whene’er a branch was stirred. He nursed his treasure with dismay, To sleep he tried in vain, He promptly sought the bank next day And put it back again. And yet again arose the doubt Which vexed his soul full sore, Again he drew his money out, Then put it back once more.' He couldn’t work; he caught a chill, And felt relieved to find That presently the doctor’s bill Took money off his mind.

Mcmix. One day along in ’96 1 saw the funny name—MeMix. 1 wondered who MeMix might be—An Irishman or Scotchman he. My memory—was it playing tricks? Perhaps I’d met this man MeMix; Yet did my recollection lack That somewhat unfamiliar “Mack.” MeCarty I have known for long, . ;* McCabes, McFarlands in a throng; McManuses — oh, five or six; But where, now, did I meet MeMix 1 " You have not known him, have not met MeMix,” a still small voice says, ’’yet; But worry not—as old Time ticks The years away you’ll meet MeMix. "From out the vast will he appear And spend with you a whole long year, About one year from now. Just wait — You’ll meet MeMix, which is a date: MCMIX.” —Roburtus Love. © © © To Be or Not to Be. I’d rather- be a Could-Be If I cannot be an Are; For a Could-Be is a Maybe, With a chance of touching par. I’d rather be a Has-Been ■ Than a Might-Have-Been, by far; For a Might-Be is a Hasn’t-Been, But a Has was once.an Are.

Fines to the Dragon Fly. ’ Life (priest and poet say) is but ■ dream;. ; I wish no happier one than to be laid -Beneath a co6l syringa’s scented shade, Or wavy willow, by the running stream, Brimful of moral, where the dragon-fly Wanders as careless and content as I. Thanks for this fancy, insect king, Of purple crest and filmy wing, Who with indifference givest up The water-lily’s golden cup, To come again* and overlook What I am writing in my book. Believe me, most who read the line Will read with hornier eyes than thine; And yet their souls shall live forever, And thine drop dead into the river! God pardon them, 0 insect king. Who fancy so unjust a thing! - J —Walter Savage Landor. © "© © Innocence Betrayed. Scribbler’s writings were often rejected; But, since he has taken a wife, He’s had more of his stories accepted Than evei - before in his life. ’Tis not that he writes any better; ’ No. The reason I’m sorry to state; They are stories—believed to the letter—* He tells her when coming home late.