From a Scrap-Book

Dominion, Volume 4, Issue 1008, 24 December 1910, Page 12

From a Scrap-Book

f. Verses Old and New. j a e!

WIMMEN FOLK. . ; Toimo was X thought av wiimnen, sure, y As made to reverincp, limb belimb; , j ;As something holy-like ami pure '.. Thro'..all the snow whito lingth av E - tliim ! : ■ ;,.Tdroameu~av gurls as angels, lad, . . i Wid nil their wistful holy ways, ( To leave you treniblin' when ye'd, had - 1 A word, wid 'thiia •. . . in oulder ; days! • . ■ ; But now I've learned me topsail lore : And roVed the sea from rim to rim, i\ -I-seldom. Wait and quate before-, ' The'soft and ' siw .ivhito -lingth .av | ■ thim' . ' i For when gurls love you well, me lad, ■ They'ro thruo to nayther law nor let-' ther; ' : 'And. when they're most'. disheartcnin.' • bad - ' • : Ye learn to love such annels'bcttherl ; i - ■ —By Arthur Stringer; . j . A FROZEN BROOK. ~ ' j iWhal d» you dream, 0 Stream, as' you !■■■• sleep so long? ; : ' • !•.' Hint of tlie black morass where ■ your [ mother stays? \ ' \ Kiss ,of the meadow-grass inyour early; ••• ways ? ■ ■ ■ v i Where-the sweet kins came to drink and : .tho even-song Of a thousand birds Tang out in the | . • dusk of days?' ' ' • Tell nio-your dreams, 0 Stream, as you : sleep so still. ■; , > •" ■ ' Leaves;;that- are stirred at dawn and 1 flowers that bend,-- - [; Looking, like love for a.word in. the eyes, ; . of a friend? . . v .• ,V • Seeing, themselves, as love in'love's eyes, y will? . " • > Givinga dream for a dream 'till the ; world shall end? : JVhat do you dream, 0 Stream, in your ; long, still sleep? !. Is it. of oceans wide to you unknown, Blank in their waste of pride and depths, unshown, f IWhere 1 myriad streams lie-in- Nirvanar . deep . ' ' . !•' 0 'Contemplating. Buddhist, wrapt and ■ lone!, . Tell me your 'dream,; 0' Stream,—would ; you. forget ... . i: Jifo that .was near and sweet;' gold, : ' green, .'and blue?..,', | Press of tho littld;feot that came to. ; you?., ': .The thirsting comforted, ■ tlie parched I ; thing wet? ; For-'the wide-,, blank waste of .'tho sea i : you never knew. ' .Dream, Stream,- ; dream, for your way; is 1 long, . • And the end of streams is .the wide; ; •; wide' Waste" of the sea. : • /. At. the' end of . dreams the . waves wait T hungrily.. V ,' of the little .feet and the even-, i song,. V • The breathing earth and Springs' that, are to be! . r-By.-Louise Driscoll. ..

EUItYDICE. • :,I am a clerk in prison-held,: ;■'■ . 1".T0,a,-fit-ledger.-manacled, . ;'And .shora thing ; of- milk and pearl.— > i : 'A little pale typewriter'. girl. _. /'This,is^her namer-Eurydice; , And she' and I . . . and I' and'" she i ■ . ■■ ; High'''6vervLondon-Town we greet: . Our window's stare-across the street;," And -fr'oirfr.tho chasm 'flunjr between .'. : ■ Comes up the.roarof tides unseen. . j This .solitude the. gods,.alloiv ~ ' , Of birds upon the topmost bough. i (And from my high and sheltered nook," . 'By peering, ftp' across'-my book,'' r. ! i I'see her dainty fingers play, - i From , hour to'hour and day-by'day, ; That -restless clacking' melody • That seems a song of lovo to me. ' 'And she -can lean, a-.little down .- 1 ;' ' And waft a smile back, or a frown; • For lovo ■ and .work a warfare wage, ' And in the middle- of - tho page— ' , < (That imp machine must bear tho blame!); [ The naughty keys will typo my -name! ! I'And tho'-to see-her I am glad, ; The endless columns that I add refuse: to add up right; The figures dance upon my sight. ; Till' I ■ discover, ; tingled there, (.'A straying; tress of .tawny hair!' ; 'And every day at-twelve fifteen ' ' She covers up her'tired machine, - [-'And like; a-bird she-seems to drift -On drooping pinion down the lift,• !And meets me, breathless, at tho door; ■'.The wheels. of life begin onco more. ; We-dip into hidden den ■ Where our own corner waits us; then. I watch - her busy with the tea— ... ! One lump for her, and two for mo! — : Our hands may-touch. Who would not be, j.ln Hades with Eurydice? . •-'And then tho afternoon drags on, Till I'look up—and .it is gone! ■' /She nods—two hat-pins in her month—. -And so the end of my long drouth! ■For punctually, at. five-.past five, ~ ' . ;'ln London Town tho gods, arrive!' 'And as;we saunter, every street. ' . - o) ,1-, a strewn carpet .for our feet, ■ Or golden staircase to a- throne; ;; '.And all the city is our own! : The traffic chants a wedding psalm; Each with a dream walks arm in arm!/" ; At last we pause for parting where . ;A gaping blackness Waits for her.' The'door upon my longing clangs; A dragon has her in. his fangs! ; And she is swallowed up from me—. ;My. little wan Eurydice! 'And she is hurried far away . Beneath'my fc-et; tliendies my .day.-' : And, lacking just that little face," Tho city. is a lonely place. [On all a-mist-lias drifted -dovm, And .London Town is—Loudon Town! But every, morn at half-past eight lAt those dark portals I await, : Where tho; pale prisoners of Night Are spilled again up to the light. Thb black earth yields her up to me: : I look not. back—Eurydice! -■■ ■ —By Arthur Adams. " ON A' SOLDIER FALLEN- IN THE PHILIPPINES. . , ' Streets of''the roaring town, Hush for him,, hush, be still! ;He comes'who was Stricken down . !Doing the word of our. will.- ■ • Hush! Let. him have his state.- ■ Give him : his-soldier's crown. ;The grists.of- trade cau wait .Their grinding at the mill, 'But he cannot wait, for his honour, now ' . the. trumpet has been, blown. LWreathe prido now for his granite/brow, lay .love on his breast of stone. -Toll! Let the great bells toll Till , the clashing air is dim, -Did we wrong this parted soul? We will make it up to him. .Toll! Let him never guess ! \Tka,t work ,wo set him to. ;Laurel,'laurel, yes; . !He did what we bade him do. _ Praise, and never a whispered hi-it but- ' the fight he fought was good; ' Noyer, a word that tho blood on his .-word ; • was his country's own-heart's blood, A flag for the soldier's bier ; Who dies that his land may live; i" Oh, banners,; banners here ; '.That he■ doubt not nor misgive! That he heed not from the tomb 'The evil days draw near When the nation, robed in gloom, . -with its faithless strive. Lot . him never 1 "dream that his'bullefs scream went wide of its' island mark, 'Home .to the heart of his sinning' laud where; she stumbled and sinned in the dark. -, -. - •' —By James VaughaD Moody.