BOOKS AND AUTHORS.

Dominion, Volume 5, Issue 1372, 24 February 1912, Page 3

BOOKS AND AUTHORS.

VERSES OLD AND NEW.

THE SINGING PLOUGHMAN. Oil! weary ine! Tis good to boo An end to workiii' hours, And labourin' long, wi' spurts o' song To cheer this world o' ours! All day, wi' sweat, an' miry wet, I've sliced yon rolling brow That darkling shows, whero sunset glow 6, Ay, grooved it wi' my plough, Till in my brain it seemed again I drovo tho furrows down, An' all my mind, it trailed behind In lines" and squares o' brown 1 An' liko tho rows o' gulls an' crows That trail tehind tny team,' Slraugo thoughts wi' wings, as thinkui brings, Camo after, dream on dream. . , . Ah, slip into tho. starlight, Jinny, Ah, 6tcp along the lane wi' me! There's a moon risin' gold behind tho soinnoy, An' the white owl e flittin 1 soft from tree to tree. 'Tis tho furrows in my mind that ye must coTcr, For ifs you're sown low in «Tery groove— ' ' ' Ah! Jinny! don't be hard, I'm your true lover! Ah! slip into the starlight, Jinny lure! —E.C.T., in the ,f WeatminsUr."

THE MOTHER She hath such quiet eyes, That feed on all earth'a wonderal She will sit Here in the orchard and the bewildering beauty Of blossoming boughs Mia her as day grows late And level sunlight streameth through thr tree-stems Lying as pale gold on the green fallows, and gliding the fleeces Of the slow-ieeding sheep in tne , pastures. Whifc in.her there stirs A dream, a delight, a wonder her being knew not, Yet now remembers, wistfully, ns a thing long lost, Sunken in dim, green, lucid sea-oaves j And her desire gocth out from her, toward God, through the twilight; Lost, too, in the waters of his unfathomable silence, - While slow tears fill her eyes. But the child, gazing upward, Sees the,glory of the apple-blosaoma etddenly scattered, As a bird iiies through the brancaes; And he reaches toward the soft, white, fluttering petals That light upon his face, and laughs; and Stoops over him quickly wjth sudden ht.t, passionate kisses, Smiling for all her tears. —Frederick Manning, in the "Spectator."

RAIN AFTER DROUGHT. All night the'small feet of the rain Within the garden ran. And genth fingers tapped the pan« • Until tho dawn began. The rill-like voices called and wnj The slanting roof beside; "The children of the clouds hay© come; Avrako! awake!" they cried. 'TVeep no more the drooping rosa Not mourn the thirsting tree, The little children of the storm . Have gained their liberty. All night the small feet of the »i About my garden ran. . Their rill-like voices called and cried Until the dawn began. • ■ —Mrs. Shorter.

MARY'S STORY. IN THE HOUSE OF JOHN. Onoe more you want to hear me tell ? • •. We stopt to drink at David s Wot Before we reached the Inn A calm As of great peace was on tho palm, A bird flew to her happy nost, A low bough hushed.in.evening rent; . And on tho ridge beyond, a fox ' Slipt to his hole among the rocks. That night of mar Tel and alarms The Wonder-Babe was in my arms. But when Ho camo rose-white (the On© Who made the world and lit tho sun) There was no place where w-e could lay His bead, save in tho ox's haySave in tho ass's humble stall: So thoro wo laid the Lord of all. A yoke was leaning to the bed, A fish-n«t hanging overhead; And under yellow barley ricks A hen was brooding on her chicks.. Outside- I heard the shepherds singThen flashed the lightning of a wing! There was quick fragrance in tho air, A sound of harpings everywhere; And cries of far hosannas—cries That silvered out of rifted skies; And through the roof I could discern The glorv of the angels burn; Till suddenly tho little stall Shone liko a lighted palace hall; And I was filled with rapture-rest, For God was warm against my breast! ■ —Edwin* Markham.,