VERSES OLD AND NEW.

Dominion, Volume 3, Issue 821, 21 May 1910, Page 9

VERSES OLD AND NEW.

£ THOUGHT. It rode astride a shaft of morning amber And found my casement wide; No swifter bird had over sought my chamber, Within my breast to hide. How unsuspectingly I bad© it ncstlo. So weak, and I so strong; . I Until it raised this brood that fight and \VTCSiIft , . "With my white bird of song. They fly at dawn, but ovory night returning Distract me witli their cry; _ And some sad night, beneath their cruel I 6purning, My one white bird will die. A. W. apennine nights. LDs a great yellow rose the drooping Bowed down and withered till her earth-worn light Died on tlio dusky mountains; all tho ,Of dreaming silver that a suppliant night , Had won from Heaven was gone, and now the dome . Of' every hill, the dewy slopes of vine. Glimmering ghostly, and each silent home _ ' . Of sleeping man awaited that chill sign The night was done. But yet her ancient lease Held over earth ovsn unto tho hills, Whoso scented forest wings upon tho , peace f . . Of tho deep, starry sky wore pluming. Threw out their loops of foam that turned and glanced Where, underneath linked arms of forest There sparkled lamps, as though' the fairies danced To magic music. Such festivities The frolic fire-flies used in nightly glade«> When their brief, winking trails of light were shown , Encircling with goldon-Breen the shades Where 6ang a nightingale upon his throne ' i Of myrtle. While the bird deliciously Set dene and dingle tingling till tho leaves Kissed one another in an ecstasy, The living light dripped through their trembling sheaves, And camo and went and came and went as when ' Bm-nH rfars peep out from tock of cloudy sky ' Twinkling and vanishing. But quickly then, Elves of the Apennine, your' hour slipt by, And one by one your tiny tapers died; Te hid yourselves from the prophetic

,Where, through the purple now there

stole" and sighed A whisper and a tremor; the bird ceased His love-song sweet; the firmament grew

; palePale as old ivory; but soon its face Was blushing, and each far-flung ridge

and dale Hill and lush valley drank tho dawn

apace. Light sped on roseal wings where. rivers

flow, To set their wrinkled shallows all afire With amber flames; from morning's golden bow ■'■■■■■; Sped arrows into heaven, higher and higher, Until tho aged mountains met young day. To each npsoaring crown and verdant head, Where rolled the green, green forest's panoply He leapt; and thoy were glad to feel his tread. • ■ • • 'And I win nothing from this vision. Mine No song of triumph; not for me to turn The poet's raptured, ever-living line, And wet man's eyes and make his spirit bum. My humbler part to tell the mystery, Not knowing whether any meaning be. ."'■ • —Eden Phillpotts. ON FE&ST HEADING "THE HOUND OF HEAVEN." As one, who sails upon a placid sea . And is' a-weariei with its monotone, Sighs, "Nevermore, no more as I have known, Shall I behold it, nor its harmony Shall hear"; to whom the lightning instantly Speaks and the voice of Ocean and are ehown The sudden storm and a titanic throne Of cloud whereon sits lonely Majesty; So spoke I; and the torrent of his song' Did drown my murmuring, and sweetly tost Was I upon the wave of wonderment: Till in the golden and the potent throng Of words was lost my longing for the lost, _ ■ ■ • And in his plenitude I sank ■ content. I—Leonard Inkster, in the "Westminster Gazette." THE VETEBAN "OF HEAVEN. O Captain of the wars, whence won Ye so great scars? •In what fight did Ye smite, and what manner was the foe? ,Was it on a day of rout they compassed Thee about, Or gat Tβ these adornings when Te wrought theii overthrow? fTvras on a day of rout they girded Mβ . about. They wounded all My brow, and they smote Mβ through tlio side: Jfy hand held no sword when I mot their armed horde, And tho conqueror fell down, and the conquered bruised his pride." ;What is this, unheard before, that tho unarmed make war, And the slain hath the gain, and tho victor hath the rout? IWfcat wars, then, are these, and what the enemies, Strange Chief, with the scars of Thy conquest trenched about?

£Tho Prince I drave forth held the Mount of the North, Girt with the guards of flame that roll round tho polo. I diave him with My wars from all hie fortress-stars, And the sea of death divided that My march might strike its goal. s"ln the keep of Northern Guard, many a great demouian Bword Barns as it turns ronnd the Monnt occult, apart: JThare is given power and place still for some certain days. And his Narao would turn the Sun'e Hood back upon it 3 heart." What is Thy Name? 0 show!—"My Name ye may not know; 'Tis a going forth with banners, and a baring of muoh swords: Bat my titles that are high, are thoy not upon my thigh? "Xing of Kings!' are the words, Txjrd of Lords'; R is written Tving of Kings, Lord of Lords.*" —By the late Francis lan Thompson.