BOOKS AND AUTHORS.

Dominion, Volume 4, Issue 1180, 15 July 1911, Page 9

BOOKS AND AUTHORS.

VERSES OLD AND NEW. , A SONG OF YOUTH. Boy, Boy with tho thick brown hair And tho eager eyes, . lou aro right to run on tho moor and shout, And throw back your head in the pure . cold air, And laugh at tho skies. Follow the wind on swift brown feet Down to tho sea j Feel tho sting ol the spray on your cheek, Let your own heart and the rough wares beat In harmony. In tho red heather bloom fling yourself down Close to tho earth; Drink in her scent that is strong as . strong wine, Lovo the soil under you, goodly and brown — The land of your birth. Take all tho joys that tho day can give, Great'. or small ; Never look in your heart to see What you have gathered there, simply livo And be glad withal. For some day, when these days are past and gono And you aro old; When sorrow has sounded the depths of your heart, You will find there this joy. that in boyhood you won, A .treasure untold. Oh youth, youth, and. a spirit of joy, Gay and strong, This is your heritage, this your right, Oh take it before it slips from you, boy, For it will, ero long. Richmond, in the "Westminster Gazette." BOND STREET. lavender fresh are your looks, Bond Street, in May-time; London that's laid down her books, London in playtime; •Sunlit eleven o'clock, Jack, ay, and Jill, . Furbelow, feather, and frock, Fashion and frill! Lilac'd and lawned go your girls, So. many Graces, Soft as the dawn, or the pearls Caught in.'.their laces; La. it was Celia' laughed ■ Silver afar; Here breathed' a violet waft; ; Thero a'cigar!: ' Men who Are feted and fed, . Folk who've c6mo croppers, Men who fill lions. with ; lead, burbiton shoppers; .. . Thus cloth the whirligig go ■' Blithe as.a bell;. . Soothly: it seems that your show ' Runs rather well. . '

Yd on this Monday .you've more—How shall I term it?— 1 Eclat thau; ever ' before,' Yes, I affirm it j Why so, I hardly can say, ,' Saving 'tis that ' ... Dolly is up for tho day, Getting a, hat! .—"Punch."' CHILDHOOD. (After Heine.) My child, ire two wero children,. Little and merry wero we, We wriggled into the hen-house, And,hid ourselves there with glee. "Cock-a-doodlc!" it sounded The regular farmyard cry, "Cock-a-dcodle!" it cheated The#, ears of tho passers-by. , In the yard there were packing-cases, We papered them bit by bit, . Apd.there iu_ our. elega iinsioji i The pair of us loved to sit.. ..y.'-V. One of our regular callors Was the cat from oyer the. wall. We inet- her'.with bowings and curtseys, ■ And thanked her eaoh time for hor call. Wo.ttrusted her cold-was better, <■ ' Our speeches were smooth .and pat. Since then -wc have said the same things ■ To many an ancient cat. Sometimes we sat discoursing Like groybeards ever so "wise, Sighed as we thought of tho present, . . • Wished that the past could rise. — Sorrowed that trust, and faith, . And love had departed hence, Groaned at the price of coffee, . And tho scarcity of pence. Gone, are tho days of childhood, '.As. all things turn to dust, The world, the years, and the pennies, ( And love, and faith, and trust. . —B. Paul Neuman. . THE SLAVE. My whole life long I've tried to ba As other folk expected me: Meekly and lovingly I've sought To think as other people thought: In other people's paths I've trod, And served the other peoole's god. Upon my feet, upon my knees, My holy office was to please: Tor'who, in Heaven's name, was I The other people to deny?

And when to-clay somebody's eyes Suddenly did .1 self-surprise, That struggled fearfully to be Nobody in the world but me, So shocked I was I bade it then Never to venture out again —So different from other men! —Henry Bryan Binus, in the "Nation.