VERSES OLD AND NEW.

Dominion, Volume 5, Issue 1467, 15 June 1912, Page 9

VERSES OLD AND NEW.

ENVY. The Willow and tho River, Ripple'with silver speech, AiuLone refrain forever , They murmur each to each. •"Brook with tho silver gravel, Would that your lot were mine— To wander free, to travel 'Whero greener valleys shineStrange ventures, fresh rovealings. 1 And, at tho end—the sea! Brook, with your turns and wheeling How rich your life must be!" "Tree with the golden rustling, Would that I were so blest, To cease this stumbling, jostling, This feverish unrest! I join tho ocean's riot; m You •1 t , alL(l ' s frco! Iree with your peaco and quiet, How rich your life must be!" The Willow & nd tho Eivor lupple with silver speech, And one- refrain forever They murmur each to each. —I*iui3 Tlntermeyer. ROSA QUO LOCORTJM. Itoscs about my dead lovo's ivory brow, Roses beneath her death-kissed little feet, Roses upon her bed: they linger now Over her with a wistful perfume sweet. Lay out my love with roses in her hair, Rose in each hand and r'o.'ies at her breast; Lay out my love, for never one so fair Has gone so early to her emerald rest.

Let them bo red-deep crimson roses too; She loved them and in death will love them well: Nothing put on of rosemary or' rue, Nothing to break the scented roseate spell. When from the heavens there drops a tiny flower, . As oft there does, I'll know it's she that bends To follow through tho fitful April shower Tho flight of tho frail messenger she . sends. in-tho "Westminster Gazette." GRANNY. Here nn my old knees, my bonnie, bonnie darling Sleeps like a lily drowsy in the sun. Bairn of my bairn, what prayers went up to Heaven Just to plead with Lord God for this little one! See the rosy thumb from £be wee mouth slipping, ■ Hear the soft breath drawn out in sleepy sighs. Ah, Lord God, tho yeaTS that I havo waited! Now, the perfect miracle, upon my knee he lies. Sleep! Sleep! Little life of my life! Sleep, little nursling! Had I not enough of my own, are you asking? . • Brave lads anil lassies, yea, a halfscore. ■ Ah, but motherhood yearns to keep its arms full, Starves for a tiny one; hungers—prays for more! . Were. Grief himself, fashioned like a weanling, To climb on my knee and there fall asleep, Ay, came Death a babe to plead for, nursing, I would mother each, I would tender vigil keep! • - Dream! Dream! Joy of my empty years! Dream, little miracles'. . Dear Lord God, when I am come to heaven — ■ Soon will-it be; the day" is drawing" nigh— ■ ■ ■ 2 shall bo so timid among the shining ' angels; ' .' I could not sing "and praise Thee— \ .would scarce :dare;try, I know- no hymns, nor any loud hosannas, Nor any of the joyful songs that sound about Thy throne, But J could croon a mother-song, and cherish on.my bosom , ■ Some little timid still-born soul, as tho he wero my own! Kcst, rest, tfiou little eager heart! Rest thee, beloved! . —Helen C. Crew.