STRAY VERSE.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXIX, Issue 3339, 4 October 1911, Page 7

STRAY VERSE.

SPRING IN THE WORLD AGAIN. There’s a cloud o’ bloom on the blackthorn, pale as a pearl to see, There’s a lark high up in the blue sky that’s singing to you and me.. . There’s a sudden sweet wind bringing fragrance of violets and sdver lain Down the orchard, all stary with stitchworts, now Spring’s in' the world again. There axe glints of gold in the govsepatch, ’gainst blue of the tai-off fells, ■ ■ - f n There’s the stir of the sleepy bee-folk towards honey in cowslip bells, • There’s the gay wild lilt o’ the peatstream, advance ■ down the small steep lane, * ’Neath the- almond houghs knotted with roses, now Spring’s in the world' again. There’s the make-believe note of the wryneck, as tho’ ’twers nlie cuckoo’s own, , And it beats in my heart like the Spring’s voice, with love in its every tone, There are thoughts like white blossom I’d bring you, and songs like sweet birds’ refrain. If you’d listen, heart’s dead, if you <1 answer, now Spring’s in the world again. —Augusta Hancock. Windsor Magazine. I ASK. My happy lime is gold with flowers;; All day the courting breezes blow On love pipes; and the wild bees beat Tbe drums of summer; gay the hours Fly past, ... A woman in the heat, Poor soul, lies dying down below! I lay between the rose so red, And honey-whitened lily cup, Receiving Heaven. . . And, in view, There in the field, a calf was dead, Whose lightless velvet eye looked up At that same burning summer blue! ■ Behind the fairest masks of life, , It seems, lies this pale constant death. What, my philosophers, to say? Shall we keep wistful death to wife P Or hide her image deep away, And, wanton, draw forgetful breatli? —John Galsworthy, in the “Nation.’’ THE INVENTION QF KISSES. In Eden’s garden long ago, One rose-dawn of creation, _ When fountains plashed and birds sang low, Filled with a strange elation. Fair Eve stood with her fed lips pursed. And Adam kissed her—kiss the first.. When fauns and satyrs through the groves f In reckless concourse revelled, And nymphs to limpid pools their loves Confessed, with hair dishevelled — Then Venus with Adonis played, Anri lips seemed but for kisses made. Lovers have come and gone since these — Millions of men and misses; Proud Abelard and Eloise Thought they’d invented kisses, And Aucassin and Nicolette In some far world are kissing yet. MAN. He’s only a purse to pay her bills— Pay for her hats and frocks and frills; An escort to take he to- and fro Wherever she thinks she wants to go. To call for her when the bridge game’s done; To sympathise with her grief or fun. A something to tell her troubles to; To cheer her up when she thinks she s blue. , . . To take, but never to give her advice. To tell her her horrors of hats look nice. To post her letters and wind the clock; And Hook up the hack of her modish frock. - _ To strap her suit case and find her gloves. In fact to do all she may say or ask; And he’s such a fool that he loves the task 1 Life. Carlyon Wells.