Verse Old and New

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XLII, Issue 19, 12 May 1909, Page 71

Verse Old and New

Jubal aud Tubal Cain. f ÜBAL sang of the wrath of God | And the curse of thistle and thorn — But Tubal got hin> a pointed rod And scrambled the earth for corn. Old —old as that earthly mould, Young as the sprouting grain— Yearly green is the strife between Jubal and Tubal Cain! Jubal sang of the new-found sea, And the souls its waves divide — •But Tubal hollowed a fallen tree And passed to the farther side. Black—-black as the hurricane wraek, Salt as the under main— Bitter and cold is that hate they hold— Jubal and Tubal Cain! Jubal sang of the golden years When wars and wounds shall cease—■ But Tubal fashioned the hand-flung spear And showed his neighbours peace. New—new as the Nine Point Two, Older than Lamech’s slain —- Bearing and loud is the fend avowed, Twix’ Jubal and Tubal Cain. Jubal sang of the cliffs that bar And the peaks that none may crown— But Tubal clambered by jut and scar, And there he budded a town. High—high as the Passes lie, Low as the culverts drain, Wherever they be thy can never agree—■ Jubal and Tubal Cain! —Rudyard Kipling.

The Sandjak of Novi Bazar. fit has been suggested that, as a solution of the Balkan problem, AustriaHungary divide the Sandjak of Novi Bazar between Servia and Montenegro. —News Item.] As a casual newspaper reader; As a person “just wanting to know”; As one seeking the light in the darkness (Not to be too inquisitive, though) On this one point I’d like information, If you’re sure I don’t trespass too far— What is it—won’t one please tell me?— The Sandjaks of Novi Bazar? With many strange terms I’m familiar; Terms smacking of peace and of war. Which the versatile press correspondents ■Delight to lug in by the score. Kraal, kopje, aud veldt—Yildiz Kiosk; The Duma dissolved by the Czar, But I do not know yet what they mean by The Sandjak of Novi Bazar. 1 can prate of the Punjab; the Mejliss, And I know when a jehad’s proclaimed, Mashruteh is likewise familiar, And 1 think I have Selamik tamed; 1 can understand the causa belli, Beni Snasen, and tribal duar, But I’m blessed if I see any sense in The Sandjak of Novi Bazar. Why should this, of all things, be conconceded, Is it flesh, fish, fowl, anyway ? Can it sit up and beg, and take notice? Does it live with his Highness, the Bey? Now, 1 don’t want to make any trouble, And I don’t know what so many things are, So, won’t you please kindly’ explain it— The Sandjak of Novi Bazar ? —“ Cincinnati Times Star,”

New Complications. The doctors say I’m getting well. My spirits arc not effervescent. It’s very hard for me to tell. I'm sure that I am convalescent. I've gained a little appetite; If food is brought, 1 don’t refuse it, Ent I am quite convinced in spite Of this that I am due to lose it. My pulse, they say, is normal now; My temperature is also normal. That doesn’t please me, anyhow, For nurse is getting far too formal. And I’m compelled to disagrree, Considering that I must leave her; I’m just as certain as can be I’ve got another brand of fever. I own that blessed creature's care I m grateful for each sweet attention, But there’s one thing I hardly dare Just at the present time to mention. A plainer and less charming nurse For me there should have been selected. My change is only for the worse In that my heart’s become affected. © © © The Tramp’s ABC. I think a ehap must BAJ In KC cannot U. A life like mine’s the best—that is, Unless UMTB. I sets and smokes among the A, Around me ’urns the B, I sniffs the wind quite RT like, What’s cornin' from the C. In DD he is a ’appy man As takes ’is fun like me—- — air is free to NE man. Whatever AGB. I never do SA a job, I think an EC life Is what a fellow ought to lead, Away from toil and strife. For labour is an awful thing, It makes me AK lot, I get quite CD, and I shake With IC fits and het.

The Criaieon JI eve. Take, I beseech you, this poor gift ofc mine, Ihe last red rose that gladdens Autumn’s day, And learn the love I dream in mood div inc, Yet dare not eay. Each crim- on petal has its thought of you, Each scented breath is incense in your praise, An emblem of the love and worship true That fills my days. Take. I beseech you, this I have to give, Anu in j our softer mem’ries let it sue, For 1 shall held for ever while I live My love of you. Walter E. Drogan. © © © Tire Face Revealed. I do not find thee ’mid the quivering grass, That lulls thee intb rest. There where the sunshine and the rainfall pass With lights from east to west I find thee not, though on the weathering stone The letters give a name that was thine own. I do not find thee in the quiet room Wherein we loved to meet. There where in happy hours of twilight gloom I rested at thy feet 1 find thee not; though flowers and books combine In one familiar setting that was thine. Net at set time or place I meet with thee: But in still hours of thought When earthly fetters fall and set ma free. Then is the marvel wrought. Sudden I find, O dear one unforgot, Thou has been with me when 1 knew it not.