Verse Old and New.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XLIV, Issue 8, 23 February 1910, Page 71

Verse Old and New.

A Thought. ©NCE, looking from a window on a land ... That lay in silence underneath the sun, — A land of broad, green meadows, through which poured Two rivers, slowly widening to the sea, — Thus as I looked, I know not how nor whence, Was born into my unexpected soul That thought, late learned by anxiouswitted man, Jhe infinite patience of the External Mind. -—Richard Watson Gilder. © © © The Marriage Act. The fools that are wealthy are sure of a bride; For riches like raiment their nakedness hide; The slave that is needy must starve all his life, In a bachelor’s plight, without mistress or wife. In good days of yore they ne’er troubled their heads In setting of jointures, or making of deeds; But Adam and Eve, when they first entered course, E’en took one another for bettei- or worse. Then, pr'ythee, dear Chloe, ne’er aim to be great; Let love be the jointure, don't mind the estate; You can never be poor who have all of

these charms, And I shall be rieh when I’ve you in my arms.

The Miller of Dee. . The moon was afloat Like a golden boat On the sea-blue depths of the sky 0 When the miller of Dee, . — With his children three, On his fat, red horse, rode by. “Whither away, O miller of Deet Whither away so late?” Asked the tollman old, with cough and sneeze, As he passed the big toll-gate. But the miller answered him never a a word, Never a word spake he. He paid his toll, and he spurred his horse, And he rode on with his children three. "He’s afraid to tell!” quoth the old tollman, “He’s ashamed to tell!” quoth he, “But I’ll follow you up and find out where You are going, O miller of Dee.* 7 The moon was afloat Like a golden boat Nearing the shore of the sky, When with cough and wheeze, And hands on his knees, The old tollman passed by. “Whither away, 0 tollman old? Whither away so fast?” Cried the milkmaid who stood at the farm-yard bars When the tollman old crept past, The tollman answered her never a Avoid— Never a word spake he. Scant breath had he at the best to chase After the miller of Dee. “He won’t tell where!” Said the milkmaid fair, "But I’ll find out!” cried she. And away from the farm. With her pail on her arm, She followed the miller of Dee,

The parson stood, in his cap and gown, Under the old oak “And whither away with your pail of milk, - s . -- c- < My pretty’ milkmaid?” said he; But she hurried' on, with her brimming pail, And never a word spake she. .“She won’t tell where!” the parson cried. “It’s my duty to know,” said he. And he followed the oiaid who followed the man . • ' ■■., Who followed the miller of Dee. After the parson came his wife, The sexton he came next. After the sexton the constable came, Troubled and sore perplext. After the constable,‘.two ragged boys, To see what the fun would be; And a little black dog, with only one eye, Was the last of the nine, who, with groan and sigh, Followed the mlßer of Dee. Night had anchored the moon, Not a moment too soon, Under the lee of the sky; For the wind it blew, And the rain fell,' too, And the river of Dee ran high:. He forded the river, he climbed the hill He and his children three; But wherever he went they followed him still, That wicked miller of Dee. Just as the clock struck the hour of twelve, The miller reached home again; And when he dismounted and turned—behold! Those who had followed him over the wold Came up in the . pouring rain. Splashed and spattered from head to foot, Muddy and wet, and draggled, Over the hill and up to the mill That wet company straggled. They all stopped short; and then out spoke The parson, and thus spake he: “What do you mean by your conduct to-night, You wretched miller of Dee?”

“I went for a ride, a nice eool ride, '■ I and my children three; For L took them along, as I always do,** Answered the miller of Dee. "But you. my friends, I would like to know Why you followed me all the way?” They looked at each other, “We were out for a walk, •- A nice cool walk,” said they. Eva L. Ogden. © © © " And Were That Best.” And were that best, Love, dreamless, endless sleep! Gone all the fury of the mortal day— ; The daylight gone, and gone the starry ray! And were that best, Love, rest serene and deep! ■Gone labour and desire; no arduous steep To elimb, no songs to sing, no prayers to pray, No help for those who perish by the way, No laughter ’mid our tears, no tears to weep! And were that best, Love, sleep with ■no dear dream, No memory of anything in life— Stark death that neither help nor hurt can know! O, rather, far, the sorrow-bringing gleam, ' The living day’s long agony and strife! - Rather strong love in pain; the waking woe! ,■ — Richard Watson Gilder. © © © Anticipation. It's seven weeks till Christmas And sister’s making ties While mother talks of puddings And thinks of rieh mince pies. The air is tinged with mystery, We hear the whispers lbw; The girls are making fancy work— But father’s making dough.