VERSES OLD AND NEW.

Dominion, Volume 4, Issue 1097, 8 April 1911, Page 9

VERSES OLD AND NEW.

FATE, I HAVE: ASKED FEW THINGS OF THEE. Fate! I have aslied few things of tlice, Ami fewer have to ask. Shortly, thou kuowest, I shall be No more; then con thy task. If one lie left on earth so late AVhoso love is like tho past. Tell licr in 'whispers, gentle iate, Not oven love must last. Tell her I leavo tho noisy feast Of life, a little tired, 'Amid its pleasures few possessed And many undesired. Tell her with steady pace to come And, v/horo my laurels lie, To throw the freshest, on tho tomb, When it has caught her sigh. Tell her to stand some steps apart 1 From others on that, day, And check the tear (if tear should start) Too precious for dull clay. —Walter Savage Landor. OF ALL THE TREES. Of all'the trees in England, Her sweet three corners in, Only the Ash, the bonnie Ash, Burns fierce while it is green. Of all the trees in England,, From sea to sea again, . The Willow loveliest stoops her boughs Beneath the driving, rain. Of all the trees in England, Past frankincense and myrrh, .There's none for smell, of bloom and " smoke, Like Lime and Juniper. . 'Of. all'the trees in' England, . Oak, Elder, Elm, and Thorn, The Yew alone'burns.lamps of peace For them that lie forlorn. ' Walter do-la Hare, in the "Westminster Gazette."

THE FAILURES. The liills arobare of verdure, the valleys clogged-.with snow, The winds of bitter winter sweep howling to.and fro; Tile roads that lured -us strongly aro drifted, deep and white, And peaks that seemed to' beckon are lnd- ' den from our sight; The sun,- who used to call us, in merry comrade-wise.' Now glowers, dull, and sullen, from-gray ■ and sodden skies;, ' " The spa is hlack and angry, apd flecked ■ with cruel foam,.' Too long, too lons we tarried, and now— we stay at home. We talked of wondrous ventures, our ' tongues would never tire, Yet we of scanty- courage sit close before , the fire; r We cringe to hear the shrieking of blasts i that stab and fleer, Wo stir the coals and whisper: "Thank God that we are here!" Somewhere the vagrant pilgrims are on the open ;way, Unmindful of to : morrow, and careless of to-day; • And though we drudge or dawdle and seek to sink'our shame, We know o.iir souls are little—we feared to risk the Game. We talked of "joyous freedom"—but V • thought, with quaking knees, Of . hardships and of . perils on distant ■ • roads and seas; • We babbled light of lmrigerr-and gripped, ' with clutching hands, The gold rovers-had wrested from the sands. What",need is there to mumble of "reasons," you and I?' We lingered, lingered, lingered, because We feared to try; And ' though our ; fortunes fame' shall;heed-,our!.call,' '©v' '[J.V jg .We'll know' ourselves for failures and' .cowards;, after alii ... ■ —Berton ii the *TopularIhgazine,"-- -— •'