POETS' CORNER.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXVII, Issue 2676, 4 December 1909, Page 1 (Supplement)

POETS' CORNER.

THE. EARLY CALL.

On, de wind drif’ down from de sunshiny sky,. Singin’ de whisperin song; It done desk up wif dat mo’nful cry It was'makin’ so deep an’, strong. De redbird whistle an’ de blue jay scold, An’ de crow come aTaughing loud an’ bold— I reckon it’s ’bout what de breeze done told, Singin’ dat whisperin’ song. De buds ccme: peepin’ ’round to see Who singin’ dat whisperin’ song. De wind says: “Hesh! Dis only me, An’ I don’ mean miffin’ wrong. I liras’ have a care ’bout de noise I make,. To tell de arbutus it’s time to wake; I might rouse de roses by mistake— So I’se. singin’ dat whisperin’ song.” HOME. AT LAST. Now more the bliss of. love is felt, Though felt to be the same; ’Tis still our. lives, in. one to melt,, Within love’s sacrc-d. flame: Each other’s joy each to impart, Each other’s grief to share; To look into each other’s heart, And find, solace there: To lay the head upon one breast,. To press c-ne answering hand, To feel through all the soul’s unrest, One scul to understand; To go into the teeming world, .The striving and the heat. With knowledge of one tent unfurl’d To welcome "weary feet: A shadow in a weary land, . Where men as wanderers roam: A shadow where a rock doth stand — The shadow of a Home. —G. J. Romanes. Yorkshire “Post.” THE ROAD. The old grey road, it stretches along, From our feet- it winds away, Yet never a step without its song, For the birds sing all the day; From hedge and tree and the sedgelined rill, Aud high in the summer air ’Tis flourish and call and pipe and trill To render our way more tair. A road of song for our -willing feet, Y/o’ll dance it- down with a smile, The long grey road with its music sweet Will seem' but a- happy mile. —WALTER E. GROGAN, in “St. James’ Budget.’" ROYAL ROADS TO WEALTH. Not so easv to get rich, you say? Just read this circular, I pray; ’Tis printed by those good, kind men Who’re selling lots of Lonely Glen. “How did the Astors play the game? Buy land,” they said, “and' do the same.” And then that wondrous Western mine— A chance one simply can’t decline; Copper, I think —or is it gold ? The stock’s ten cents a share, I’m told; Invest, and sure as anything You’ll soon be a bonanza lnig!

And then perhaps you haven’t seen The man who has a new machine For shelling nuts and slicing ham And mixing artificial jam ; ’Twill pay enormously, jind all You. need’s a little capital.

I read just now about a chance To claim a large estate in France, And what vast profits ono can draw From frog -farms down in Arkansaw; In fact, I cannot understand, With all this wealth on every hand, Why there’s a poor man in the land! B, H. TITHEBINGTON. __ ... - ......