Verse Old and New

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XLII, Issue 3, 20 January 1909, Page 50

Verse Old and New

The Holly Bearers. Thu out of the dark wood came, Bearing the holly green; The berries with their scarlet flame, 'The leaves of quivering sheen. They hear it up ami down the town. They sing at every door: “To Egypt’s land our Lord fled down With father and mother poor.” “J’mmalh the light of moon and star, They fled from Herod's hand, Bv noontide blue and midnight dew, Acte'S the desert sand.” “ j'on: travellers we from far away! ( old grows the eventide; Bcmeniher wanderers all this day And open your heart’s door wide!” “Oh, open your gate, for the time grows We stand without ami call! Bor the l.ord\ sake our green boughs take. “And joy go with you all!” The gypsies over the dark moor came, Bearing the holly green; The berries with their scarlet flame, i The leaves of shifting sheen. ALICE E. GILLI NGTON. © © © Tiling's to Forget. If vou sec a tall fellow ahead of a. crowd, A leader of men marching fearless alid proud, And. you know of a talc whose mere telling aloud, ♦Would cause his proud head to in anguish be bowed, It's a pretty good plan to forget it. If vou know of a skeleton hidden away In a closet, ami guarded ami kept from l he day . . - In the dark; and whose showing, whose sudden display, XVould. cause grief ami sorrow and lifelong dismay. It’s a pretty good plan to forget it. If you know of a thing that will darken the joy. Of a man or a woman, a girl or a boy. That will wipe out a smile, or the least way annoy. A fellow may cause any gladness to cloy, It’s a pretty good plan to forget it. V’ © © © The Fgotist. It’s either (his, or else it’s that. He lays the law down plump and flat, There’s nothing of the diplomat, It’s pretty sure, about him. lie hardly credits you with sense ; To dill er shows you’re very dense. He thinks it a great oflen-ce, If you should seem to doubt him. N<» sort of reason will he deign To give, that he may make it plain, lie cannot help your lack of brain, So don’t you get him nettled. His declaration short and gruff. You may imagine* is a bluff, But still he says it. That’s enough. ’The matter should he settled. I’ve done all that a woman can Since* first our married life began, To soothe and please the lordly man And bow to his dominion. 1 would not wish to be unkind. Bid oh. I'd love to take and bind Ami gag him ami then free my mind By giving my opinion. —“ Chicago News?’ © © © Au Ode. O all suflusing. all embracing influence! >! cannot sing thy praises. Thou ghost conglomerate of unheard prayers, ( onfusing worse l>>ndon’s confounded mazes; Thai with the concentrated evidence Of incomplete combustion, Wouldst spoil the coats of fifty polai bears,’ » Turning them quick to fustiaul

Still, there is something to be done by thee. Thou whalt not go to blazes, At least, not yet, dear Fog. This afternoon 1 ask no more trilby-obscuring hazes. For 1 have promised to go out to tea— My bet abomination. Congeal to pitch, dear Fog; and this same boon .Shall be thy expiation. —J. T. GROSSE. © © © The Bond. All things are bound together by a tie Finer and subtler than a ray ot light; Colour and sound and fleeting fragrances, The maiden’s smile, the star-beam sparkling bright, Arc knit together by a secret bond Finer and subtler than a ray of light. Sometimes an urn of memories is unsea led ■ lust by a simple tunc, or sad or gay; Part of the past with every quivering note From its dark sleep awakens to the day. And we live o’er again a long-past life, Just through a simple tune, or sad or gay. Some flowers bring men and women back to mind; A well-known face smiles to us in their hue; Their bright cups, moved by the capricious wind, Will make us dream of eyes, black eyes or blue; We in their fragrance feci a breath beloved ; Flowers bring back men and women whom we knew. —Alice Stone Blackwell. © © © The Nifty-Thrifty Maiden. 1 knew a maiden, thrifty some. Who loved to save a nifty sum. To clean her clothes their second season A little gasoline she’d squeeze on. Now this same maiden, thrifty some. Danced dances up to (iffy some; She’d dance till hot enough to smoke, And she with gasoline asoak! One day this maiden, thrifty some. Danced dressed up to fifty some; Then burst aflame, runs the narration, And saved the cost of her cremation. © © © The Pleasures of Sorrow. j Some critics of the projected Optimists’ Club, where members are to be fined for not smiling and even the waiters are tobe merry say that it would be the last place to attract a sorrowing heart.] When adverse fate is going strong Ami in my heart a sense of wrong Wells up as if it must ere long Slop over, What mental pain it is to see Tiie empty, senseless jollity Iff those who think themselves to ba In clover! The foolish and unmeaning grin And raucous laugh appear a sin When all delights are plainly thin And hollow. And were 1 dragged from out my den To mix with optimistic men I shudder as I think what then Must follow. How cana waiter’s mirth beguile A soul that dully aches the while? Shall I be cheered by those who smile For money ? Or by the gibe of him who sinks II is grief and jests because he shrinks From fines, and not because he thinks It funny? What, if my true love prove untrue, 'Shall I, my head all crowned with rue, Rush forth in Lethe's waters to Immerse it? Nay. he who owns a breaking heart Would ne’er forego that precious smart) He only wants to sit apart And nurse it! —London Daily Mail.