Verse Old and New.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XLIX, Issue 17, 23 April 1913, Page 71

Verse Old and New.

Modern Matrimony : A Duetto. HE—z t EAR one, when we exchange our I a vow J We’ll knot the loosest sort of tie; For our ideals, like our brows, Are broad and high. She — I A simple hitch I should prefer, As simple as we can devise; A lover’s-bowline, as it were— One yank unties. He— This nuptial pact shall not coerce Our own sweet wills a single jot. We’ll chop “for better or for worse,” And all that rot. She— My love, your sentiments are mine; I echo them with all my heart. Z Sifnnlv can’t endure thit line—- “ Till death us part.” He— | My 'idol, I am' overjoyed! I shan’t love twice, but if I should This contract will be null and void; That's understood. STie-j- : I shall not dream of liberty, But if I should—you'll understand The; bonds that bind us now will be As ropes of sand. He— I am the needle, you the pole! O Pole, my constancy you know. But should I not remain heart-whole I’m free to go. 1 She— I am the Hower, you are my sun! O Sun, you know my constancy. But if I choose to cut and run You quite agree. Together— Since you love me as I love you. Herewith a sacred troth we plight. Each to the other will be true: If not —good night!

Sonnet to an Onion. Between the liver and the bacon fried, A shallop floating on a gravied sea, As graceful as the sea anemone,

And fragrant as the rose of summertide. <_> succulent esculent, so true and tried, Thy beauty takes my breath away; to me

Thou art a languorous odor symphony, With thee my tears fall—tears of joy and pride!

When the reft queen beside the Theban wave

Mourning her slain ones held thee in her hand, Then flowed woe’s saline tide unstemmed by years. So weak, yet strong; so modest, yet so brave, Niobe of the truck farm’s sprouting band, I press thee to my lips— and laoao* © © © Farewell. We have laughed together, now we weep. We have played together, now we sleep We have loved the sunshine. In the rain Stand we alone and voiceless facing pain. We have held illusion, in our youth. Now we find when aged, brutal truth. We have dreamed of splendour, heart to heart Loved and hoped and suffered—now we part I —Leolyn Louise Everett. © © © King Apollo. When my lady sleeping lies, Her sweet breaths her lips unbar, Which, when King Apollo spies, With dream footfall not to mar The dear sleep, Through the rosy doors ajar He with golden thoughts doth creep. —Michael Field.

Poppies in the Wheat. When waning summer brings hushed autumntide And quails break Sabbath with their whistling sweet: Then flame the crimson poppies in the wheat Where all the land is fragrant as a bride! The glory of the harvest and its pride—Forevermore they flutter in the heat: Music of autumn do their lips repeat ; They share a rapture and a joy. world wide! — The wheat is old as Egypt, and its croon Breathes songs of bursting barn and granary. Only the poppies with their dancing keep Sweet memories of romance and of June: And echoes soft of springtime's verdant sweep When April touched the world with witchery! —Edward Wilbur Mason. © © © The Song of Sengs. Over the roar of the cities, Over the hush of the hills, I«s heard a song that never stops, A voice that never stills. Epic-loud as the sea is - Lyric-low as the dew, It eings and sings a soul into things And builds the world anew. Dauntless, deathless, stern but kind, Bold and free and strong, It sweeps with mastery man's mind, And rolls the world along. From soul to soul it wings its words, And, 10, the darkness flics: And all who heed that song of songs View Earth with ■other eyes. New 7 eyes, new thoughts, that shall go on Seeing as Beauty sings," Until the light of the farthest dawn Shall fold its rainbow wings. —Madison Cawein, in Book News Monthly

The City in the Sea. Lo! death has reared himself a throne In a strange city lying alone Far down within the dhn West, Where the good and the bad and the worst and the best Have gone to their eternal rest. There shrines and palaces and towers .(Time-eaten towers that tremble not!) Resemble nothing that is ours. Around, by lifting winds forgot. Resignedly beneath the sky’ The melancholy waters lie. No rays from the holy heaven come down On the long night-time of that town; But light from out the lurid sea ■Streams up the turrets silently—• Gleams up the pinnacles far and free— Up domes—up spires— up kingly halls— Up fanes—up Babylon-like walls — Up shadowy long-forgotten bowers Of sculptured ivy and stone flowers— Up many and many a marvellous shrine Whose wreathed friezes intertwine The viol, the violet and the vine. Resignedly beneath the sky The melancholy waters lie. ,6o blend the turrets and shadows there That all seem p< ululous 'in air, While from a proud tower in the town Death looks gigantically down. There open fanes and gaping graves Yawn level with luminous waves. But not the riches there that lie In each Idol's diamond eye— Not the gaily jewelled dead Tempt the waters from their bed; For no ripples curl, alas! Along that wilderness of glass — No swellings tell that winds may be Upon some far-off happier sea — No heavings hint that winds have been On seas less hideously serene. But 10, a stir is in the air! The wave—there is a movement there! As if the towers had thrust aside, In slightly sinking, the dull tide— As if their tops had feebly given A void within 'the filmy Heayem. The waves have now a redder glow The hours faint and low— And when, amid no earthly moans, Down, down that town shall settle hence Hell, rising from a thousand thrones, Shall do it reverence. — Edgar Allan Poe.