Selected Poetry

New Zealand Tablet, Volume LII, Issue 7, 18 February 1925, Page 32

Selected Poetry

WINTER Not death, but sleep wherein all Nature lies ( ’Neath low’ring clouds and sullen sombre skies, ■ But leafless trees ’mid scenes ,of dusky hue And drear and cheerless landscapes meet the view! Harsh winds shriek wild a mournful fright’- ( ning air 1 As if of life’s rebirth they did despair, With storm and tears they often mourn the dearth Of leaves and flowers that beauteous made the earth. The silent brooklets held in icy thrall, And snowflakes cover earth with virgin pall The artist, Frost, attempts designs to trace — Fair, fleeting pictures dainty in their grace! Not death, but sleep wherein all Nature lies ’Neath low’ring clouds and sullen sombre skies ; Sleep-season’s brief though skies be overcast, In newer beauty Nature wakes at last! ■— Mona For of. in the Irish Catholic. 5 9 BABYLON The blue dusk ran between the streets: my love was winged within my mind, It left to-day and yesterday and thrice a thousand years behind. o-day was past and dead for me, for from to-day my feet had run Through a thousand years to walk the ways of ancient Babylon. On temple top and palace roof the burnished gold flung back the rays Of a red sunset that was dead and lost beyond a million days. The tower of heaven turns darker blue, a starry sparkle now begins; The mystery and magnificence, the myriad beauty and the sins Come back to me. I walk beneath the shadowy multitude of towers; Within the gloom the fountain jets its pallid mist in lily flowers. The waters lull me and the scent of many gardens, and I hear Familiar voices, and the voice I love is whispering in my ear. Oh real as in dream all this; and then a hand on mine is laid: The wave of phantom time withdraws; and that young Babylonian maid, One drop of beauty left behind from all the flowing of that tide, Is looking with the self-same eyes, and here in Ireland by my side. . Oil light our life in Babylon, but Babylon has taken wings, While we are in the calm and proud procession of eternal things. —A. E. in An Anthology of Modern Verse. .■ ' .

SEEN AND UNSEEN (To a boy who thought hr hail si'.cn a leaf j leave the tree ) “Not to sight or taste or touch ho credit, Hearing only do we trust secure.” St. Thomas Aquinas. 1. You say you've watched the trees Grow green, then fade, away; The brown leaf flutter in the breeze, Then drop and turn to clay. 2. Ah ! I remember how r The wind sighed in the trees, And crooned and called: “Come see if now You see me fall — sight ne'er deceives!” 3. Ah ! mocking wind, my eyes Delude, for well t know Sight, touch, and taste is but disguise To veil God’s secrets here below. .4. The shooting stai ; the soul Winging its homeward way; Falling leaf to its earthly goal — Faith sees, but not the eyes of clay. —J. A. Fit A thick in. the Irish Itosary. V THE JOLLY FELLOW lie slaps you on the shoulder, When you meet him on the street, And smiles his very broadest With a smile that can’t be beat. Lie'll give you the “once over,” And he’ll ask you how you are, And then, to top the climax, Lie will offer a cigar. Sometimes you’ll see him smiling, And sometimes you'll see him grin, He’s just the sort of fellow Who will stick through thick and thin. He doesn’t brood o’er troubles He’s of optimistic bent, He’ll give you his last dollar When you're down to your last cent! A lien other fellows slum you, And the world seems unside down, He’ll take you out and treat you To tin' biggest feed in town. You’ll find your spirits soaring, And your courage coming hack. And with it, strength to conquer With your feet firm in the track! He’s just a jolly .fellow. But you miss him when he’s gone, Like you do some cherished relic When you’ve turned it into pawn. You can’t realise the value Of this honest, loving heart, Until the pathways widen And there comes a time to part. But, memories of that friendship Will endure until the end, And that same carefree fellow Will remain a sincere friend! —Catherine Elizabeth Hanson in the Irish World.

ON TWO SISTERS DYING AFTER AFTER SERVICE IN WAR In woods remote, hid in the mountain hollows, Doves there are that have a gentler beauty, s Doves that are marked as by a poet’s image, And they arc called Doves of the Wounded f Heart. And such they wore, Doves of’the Wounded He ro : We kne-v their names, but we could never learn The call would bring them to our breasts or hands. Bearing the grain of mercy they, too went To recking wastes, and there they took their places And soared and cowered with strong-faring birds Till their hearts were a-strain. Doves of the Wounded Heart, with hearts a-strain, Out of the reeking wastes there grow before them Their woods .remote, hid in the mountain hollows, And they fled towards them from the reeking wastes And barnyard-world that we would have them in ! Doves of the Wounded Heart, they left our world, Our barnyard world and left our reeking wastes, Doves of the Wounded Heart that had the. beauty Of far-off woods hid in the mountain hollows ! — Pauraic Colu.m in the Irish Statesman. 5 j THOUGHTS BEFORE DAWN This breathing self — though to myself ’ tis Cannot itself contain. Around me die Daily a world of things, which, by their make Seem other —separate. But in you sky, Where wanes one moon, what thousands were awake— While memory, wiih rich breath at give ami take, Receives and renders life! Thus must I be Always unsatisfied, from having drunk So deeply of a wave when* moons have sunk, Thirsting for moons which I shall never see! Yet in my dreams they rise; their kingdoms come. Oh, softly, upon xi world where I lie dumb, A hat breathing dawns shall break! My day goes by, Fore-knowing, and fore-shadowed of its rest: But those far suns are gathered to my breast, As here, released from self, content 1 lie, Watching an old moon reap the morning sky. Laurence Housman in the Saturday Itc--1 view.

•>Leader, p. 33. Notes, p. 34. Topics, pp. 22-23. Complete Story, p. 11. The End of a Famous Newspaper, p. 13. The Montessori Method, p. 17. The Church in N.Z., p. 19. Notes of Travel (by J.K.), p. 25. Cardinal Gasquet, p. 49. Sunday Afternoon Readings, p. 51. Pope Pius XI, p. 57.

MESSAGE OF POPE LEO XIII TO THE “ N.Z. TABLET.” Pergani Directorcs et Rcriptores New Zealand Tablet, Apnstolica Benedictione confortati, Religion is et Just, it ice causam promovere per vias Veritatis et Pads. LEO XIII, F.M. Pie 4 Aprilis, 1900. Translation. —Fortified by the Apostolic Blessing, lot the Directors and Writers of the New Zealand Tablet continue to promote the cause of Religion and Justice by the ways of Truth and Peace. April 4. 1900. LEO XIII., Pope.