VERSES OLD AND NEW.

Dominion, Volume 5, Issue 1485, 6 July 1912, Page 9

VERSES OLD AND NEW.

EVER? Will he ever be weary of wandering— Tlio flaming sun? ind ever weary of waning in lovo-light—• The white still moon? {Vill over Shepherd, come With, a crook of simple gold, And lead all the little stars Liko lambs to tho fold? Will ever tlio Wantlorer sail From over tho sea? Up fj tho river of' water To tho stones to mo? • Will'he take us all into, his ship, Droaming, • And waft us far, Wo whero in tho clouds of the West Tho Islands are? . ' SLEEP. Sleep . has come to longing eyes,' . Welcome Sleep. ' : ■ ■ ' Creeping, as tho long nig|it dies, 'Like a shadow, when the.skies • Flush, and Dawn begins ; to rise From the deop. Now, as though a glad, surprise Held her breath, Smiling, solemn, still, she lies. No moro sobbing, no moro 6ighs. Sleep has' closed her weary gyes. Sleep and Death. Riccardo Stephens. ' GRANDEUR. Poor Mary Byrno is dead, An' all the world may see Where she lies upon her bed Just as'fine as quality. '. She lies there still and white With candles either hand That'll guard her through the night. Surd she never was so grand! Ehe holds her rosary, Her hands clasped on her breast, Just as dacint as can be In tho habit she's been dressed. In life her hands wore red . With every sort of toil, But they're white now sho is dead, An.' they've sorra mark of soil. .The neighbours come and go, . They kneel to say a.prayer. I wish herself could know Of tho way she's lyin' there. It was work from morn till night, And hard she earned hor bread; , But I'm thinking she's a right To be aisy now she's dead. : .When other girls were gay At wedding or at Fair. ' She'd be toiling all tho day, Not a minyit could she spare, An' no one missed her face, Or sought her in a crowd, But to-day. they throng tho place' Just to see her in her shroud. • : Tho creature in her life • Drew trouble with each breath; She was just "poor Jim Byrne's wife"— But she's lovely in her death. I wish tho dead could seo ' , .' The splendour of a wake, For ifs proud herself would be Of the keening that they make. Och!. little Mary Byrne, ;• You welcome every guest. ' Is it now you take pour-turn To be merry with the rest? I'm thinking , you'd be glad. Though the angels make your bed, / Could yon seo the care we'vo had j To respect you—now you're deed. ' ' 'i i -W. M. Letts.

'■■ CHILDREN FAITH, Great teachers had we in our .youth, '■ 'Great lessons' learned wo unaware. Faith, sura enough,.to laugh' at Trutbj ; If Truth bad not been also-fair. "Was ours: we clasped the very hand <l n That shaped.tho .worlds,?"and read comi ■}■■■'■ plotevr'iv •.■mWm - :•. The secret of the Love that planned,.'. .'; In flowers that grew about 'our feet.. '•■'■ /•/ .■ ■ .... -■ '■, -- ;, v i, - !Onr instincts made immortal claims; '■ ' .■_o.ur spirits touched tho infinite; 'V. ■ '(We breathed the breath of spacious aim's, • jßut lowly, things were our-delight. -.-. ICo load had seemed too great-'to'-bear ' hßut in our kinship with-the sod, Our.weakness gave us hearrs to share ■ <' The vast humanity of God, • —Sidney Koyse'Lysaght, '