VERSES OLD AND NEW.

Dominion, Volume 5, Issue 1259, 14 October 1911, Page 9

VERSES OLD AND NEW.

FIRELIGHT AND-DAYLIGHT. Tho many-coloured flames array Themselves- in battle with the day, They charge aud flicker, leap aid fail. While still and steadfast, cold and pale, Tho dawn arises, and surveys Their tumult with o'erwhelming gaze; Then in ting Hoods ot icy-grey air Enters and take, possession t'licro. - The firo is conquered, and will pour Its glamour on : baro walls no more, 'Nor«nang with rosy tapestry Tho simple chamber cranny. The rose-lit bower now but shows A huinblo room each neighbour knows. Yet still tho tiro burns warm, and still The tired heart and fingers chill May lean beside tho glow, and ieol' Good oheer • and warmth their sorrows steal. ~ 0 days of young romance- and dream, When life rose-damed in joy did seem Because we two were young and glad! We know,' her now austere and sad; Yet love is left, and love is still The heart of life lor those that will, Filling with warm and hidden glow The everyday that all men know. -DORA OWEN. THE MONK AND HIS WHITE CAT. (After an eighth century Irish poem recorded by Professor Kuno Meyer in his "Ancient Irish Pcotry.') Pangur, my white cat, and I, " • ' Silent ply our. special crafts; Hunting mice his one pursuit, Mino to shoot keen spirit shafts. Best' I love, all Fame beyond, In tho bond of some rare book; Yet white Pangur 'from his play Casts, my way, no jealous look. Thus alone within one cell Safe we dwell—not dull the taleSine* his ever-favourite snort Each to court will never fail. Now a mouse to swell his spoils In his toils he spears with skill; Now a meaning deen'.y thought I 'have caught with startled thrill. Now his green full-shining gaze Darts its rays against the wall; Now- my feebler glances mark Through tho dark bright knowledge . fall. Leaping up with joyful purr, In mouse fur his sharp claw sticks; Problems difficult and dear With my spear I, too, transfix. Crossing not each other's will, . Diverse. still, yet still allied, Following each his own lone ends, Constant friends we hero abide.. Pangur, master of his art, Plays his part in prauksome youth; While in age sedate I clear n Shadows from the sphere of Truth. -ALFRED PERCEVAL GRAVES.