Versa Old and New

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XLII, Issue 8, 24 February 1909, Page 50

Versa Old and New

The Bond. AU things arc bound together by a tic, Finer and subtler than a ray of light ; Colour and sound and fleeting fragrances, The maiden’s smile, the star-beam sparkling bright, Al'< knit together by a secret bond, Finer and subtler than a ray of light. Sometimes an urn of memories is unsealed Just as a simple tune or sad or gay; J’lirt 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 Howers bring men and women back to mir.d: A well known face smiles on us in their h tie; Their bright cups, moved by the capricious wind. Will make us dream of eyes, black eyes or blue; We in their fragrance feet a breath beloved ; Flowers bring back men and women whom we knew. © © © Father. Dear Father. Father, dear father, come home with me now. The clock on the dashboard strikes one. JDon’t fuss with the ear any longer, pupah; You can't get the old tub to run. T'iic cylinder's cracked, and the timer won’t work. : And mother’s been waiting since tea. fit? tether the ear to a post, father dear, 1 And come home on the trolley with me. ■ Come home, come home, etc.

The Bathing Crank. Macpherson goes to bath each day As often as he can, And in the briny he will stay Oi basking in the summer ray. His colour’s tawny tan. With towels hung about his fornr Away he’ll gaily slip Ir biting wind and wintry storm, Or when the sun’s extremely warm, To take another dip. He dips so often that they say, The man is "dippy” quite. He’s sporting in the salty spray On Sundays and each holiday, And fur into the night. He’s quite a merman in his ways, And they have Christened Mack (Because of his mad dipping eraze) The Dipsomaniac! © © © To Stevenson—of some Critics. They scan the page all musical with perfect word and phrase, And frown to find you trivial who talk of primrose ways; Nor fathom your brave laughter, nor know the way you trod — O serious-hearted wanderer upon the hills of God! There where you lie beneath the sky far in a lonely land. You who were even glad to die—care not who understand Your whimsical sweet strays of tune and your heroic mirth— Diviner of Arcadian ways throughout the dreary earth! —Grace Hazard Conkling. in “Putnam’s and The Reader.”

Love and the Aeronaut. Won’t you come and fly with me’ I know sky paths all untravelled, Cloud banks, cool as cool can be, Ways through stars to be unravelled; Skirt with me the rainbows red, . Flutter through the lazy hours Like the fleecy clouds and thread .Vapoury lanes and unrained showers. Up and up and up—away! Leave the hills and clear the mountain, Leave the hills and clear the mountain. Dripping with the showery spray As a songbird in the fountain. Till the lights that twinkle far Where poor mortals fret and ponder Seem as distant as the star Twinkling in the heavens yonder. Don’t you feel the spread of wings’ Don’t you hear the anchor slipping? Bid fareyvell to earthly things— Heavens, Love! The gas bag’s ripping! Quick, your hand, Love! Do not quake! Shades of Virgil, Homer, Sallust! We are just above a lake—I must throw you out as ballast! J. W. Foley. © © © ' The Girl I Left Behind Me. The dames of France are fond and free, And Flemish lips are willing, And soft, the maids of Italy, And Spanish eyes are thrilling; Still, though I bask beneath their smile, Their charms fail to bind me, And my heart falls back to Erin's Isle To the girl I left behind me. For she’s as fair as Shannon’s side, And purer than its water; But she refused to be my bride. Though many a year I sought her. Yet, since to France I sail’d away, Her letters oft remind me That I promis’d never to gainsay The girl I left behind me. .She says “My own dear love, come home Aly friends are rich and many,

Or else abroad with yon I’d roMn, A soldier stout as any; If you’ll not come, nor let me go, I’ll think you have resigned me.” Aly heart nigh broke when I answered “No” To the girl I left behind me. For never shall my true love brave A.life of war and toiling. And never as a skulking slave I'll tread my native soil on; But were I free or to be freed, lhe battle’s close would find me To Ireland bound, nor message need From the girl I left behind me. © © © Our Growing Vocabulary. I purchased me a motor mau,v, many . years ago, And used to mote me thisaway and that; I slaughtered countless fauna and a, dozen folk or so, The world was sure my oyster, on a plat; But now the outlook’s different, and my motor gathers rust—I spurn it—let it stand around and loaf; I long for sport much stranger which is fuller far of danger— Ah, how I rather aviate than ehauf! What fun is there in spinning through a city’s dinny dinning? How much I’d rather aviate than ciiauf. I’m siek of honking swiftly over common, stupid streets, I’m siek of all the things the coppe.rs do; I’m ill of turning chickens into litle fresh minemeats, I'm bored of cutting ladies half in two I want to cleave the ether in a dizzy areoplane, (Who doesn’t is a dullard and an oaf) — I long to skim the breezes like a bunch of well-skinned cheeses. For I’d rather aviate than ehauf—(l never, never hammer all this longhaired. newborn grammar, So had rather aviate than ehauf. “ Richmond Times-Dispatch.”