Selected Poetry

New Zealand Tablet, Volume LII, Issue 14, 15 April 1925, Page 32

Selected Poetry

THE THEATRE. After the traffic with its roars and glares Ono treads in dimness upon velvet stairs Into a dark where women strip the sheets (That gleam a moment) from the velvet seats. Stilly they work, then go; the doors creak, then Two programme sellers whisper about men (Or other subject hardly to be spoken) The silence of the cave is else unbroken. In front, the great arch, that the-curtain fills, Gleams from its columns: on the boxes' sills The rounded Loves shine where they catch the light. Above, mysterious darkness infinite Arises tier on tier. A woman stands Surveying all, with programmes in her hands. The lights go up, the crowd comes shilling in. Under the screen the violins begin To tune and pluck, the wood-wind groans, musicians Gossip, drop music, joke and change positions. The Pit is filled. The Stalls, with sleekness shining, Come glossy from tho groom, or suave from dining. * They edge past others to their scats with cringes; . The turn-down seats collapse upon their hinges. The men smooth hair, the women twitch their shawls, The Circles focus glasses on the Stalls. More women enter in, more sleek men follow; Light, laughter, greetings, chatter, fill the hollow; The violin-strings tune, the wood-winds groan, All present act a person not their own But dreamed of and assumed; attendants glide Pointing the seats to parties whom they guide. A man (an actor by his mask-like face) Stands at a doorway looking on the place; Those who have recognised him nudge and stare With "That is he; 'the tall one, with the hair." Struggling to's place, a man apologises, Treading on toes. The safety-curtain rises , Behind, the curtain trembles, fold on fold, Dim velvet heavy with a fringe of gold. Now all the thousand watch, while others come • Excitement (that stirs all) makes silent some;

There in the seats whence loudest babbles rise Some stare .in silence and with glistening eyes. Then in the babble.comes the baton's tap, A hushing follows on a broken clap. Then, ere the tumult recommences, comes The pleadings of the- strings, the march of drums. Now all are touched in their intensest trait To battle, or to pardon, or to pray, Or to exult in love with thoughts of giving' .Unworded benediction on' all living; And still the doors are thronged and people press In, to their seats, and trip on foot or dress. Now an electric bell its signal burrs, The music stops, men hush the brilliance blurs Into a dimness, then the dimness dies To darkness, and tin; voices become eyes. The fifteen hundred individauls cease; They arc an expectation not at peace But waiting to be shaken; then 0, wonder! The veils of darknesses are drawn asunder, The scene is bared, 0 my beloved, look It is Illyria; listen to the Duke. —John Masefield, in the Measure, (New York). THE COLLEGE PARK. Vcicuas A then (is. My windows look upon the College Park: I see it thrill beneath the touch of Spring. There Nature's waiting tinder feels the spark That sets aglow the heart of everything; And there, the young year opens wondering eyes . Before the magic picture of the skies. Some mystery lies upon the College Park, For mid-day ghosts are passing to and fro: Poet and provost, wit and gentle clerk — Behold them walk in Fame's immortal glow. My eyes are filled with rapture as I gaze Upon the distant grace of vanished days. It is a place ef dreams, the College Park, And famous presences invest its lawns; There Swift grew quick to growl and bite and bark; There Goldsmith learned to win the game with pawns, There Moore once strutted in his little gown, And brought. Anacreon to Dublin town. I see great figures in the College Park: Up from the quays Burke saunters into view; There are the orators of Irish mark Grattan and Curran, Plunket, Molyneux. My windowsi sparkle with each famous face, And tingle with the legend of the place.

I see green sashes in the College Park:' Dreaming of freedom, Emmet joins the (throng; Davis is listening to his thoughts, and hark! The silence throbs with Ingram's rebel song. / There Butt, at last, caught vision of his star, And daring nobly, crossed the bigot bar. I look in vain across the College Park For living men to carry on the trust. Scanty of genius are our times, and dark No gold now glitters in the College dust. Glory lies buried in the sunset seas, And empty Athens dreams of Pericles. • —A.W., in the Irish Rosary. Sift LIGHT. The night has a thousand eyes, And the day but one; Yet the light of the bright world dies With the dying sun. The mind has a thousand eyes, And the heart but one; Yet the light of a whole life dies When love is done. —P. W. Bouroilt-on, in An Anthology of Modern Verse. J.,; LOOK IN' FOR NEWS. "It's time ye wor married," says she to me, "For the years are slippin' by, An' it isn't younger ye're gettin'," says she, "I know it meself," says I. "Ye have the wee house an' the lan'," says she, "An' a brave wee fortune for bye. Ye ought till be able till get a man." "I know it meself," says I. "The lads are willin' enough," says she, "But they tell me ye pass them by. Sowl, but ye be't to be hard till plazc." "I know it meself," says I. "I see ye there in the chapel yard, Wi yer head held quare'n high, Steppin' along like a queen," says she. "I know it meself," says I. "They say there's a lad on the hill bey ant, An' on him ye've set yer eye." "Dear knows," says she, "thon's no ma*ell for you." "I know it meself," says I. "Ye wouldn't be mad for till look at him; It's surely," says she, "a lie. But wan couldn't be up till the leeks of you." "I know it meself," says I. —Nora Ni Chathain, in the Irish World.