VERSES OLD AND NEW.

Dominion, Volume 5, Issue 1497, 20 July 1912, Page 9

VERSES OLD AND NEW.

DIN O'SHEE. j If I could fetoh tho moon down, from tho 6ky I'd give her for a lamp to Dan O'Shee; So he'd never.'fear tho darkness of tho night Or tho depth o'dark upon tke:winter sea. If every beech leaf in tho wood wore gold I'd gather gold all day 'mid never tire. sarra care; should conie. : tho -winter 'long, With the turf stack full and cattle in tho ' byre. • '■'.':. : -."■ . \ '.;. , If. I. should' win the keys of Heaven's , gates, '".".'.'' And find them open wido to welcome "mc, I'd ask of God'to bid'them wait awhile Till I'd'enter ado by:'side with Dan ; O'SKce. '■:■■ ■■■•.-:■.■■/ ',<:/ •" ~' -W. M. Letts. ' .' '"* "t'V.som. " '""•". Oiis sunny time:in May. When lambs were .sporting, ■ The sap ran in tho spray And I went courting,. And all the appleboughs Were bright with blossom, I picked an. early roseFor my love's bosom. And then I met her friend, Down by the water, Who cried, "She's met her end / That. gray-eyed daughter, ';,. That voice of hers is stilled, ; Her. beauty broken." . . 0 me, my love is killed, Mj-j.lovo unspoken.' . . She was, too sweet, too. dear, • ■ To. die so oruel, 0 Death, why leave me here ;And tako my jewel? Her voice went to.the bone So true, so ringing," And now I go hione Winter or. springing.- ~'•.', —John llasefield. ; THE, ROAD-SONG. OF THE RACE. I have lived in the garden With Adam, And eaten' the fruit of tho tree; I have hidden,'ashamed,'-from the face of •God, ■■/■■■ ■For I' dreamed that. He could not see. The flaming sword of the Angel of Wrath Has .driven me over the earth; I am marked With the mark of the mur- : -'■ ■ dorer Cain; •'.:"'■ ' I have travailed at death and at' birth. With patriarch, priest, and prophet, I -.•'■; seek for a Promised Land:. ' Lead'mo, brother; follow me, brother; Brother, oh/ take my hand! I am moving onward and ever on; 0 \ brother/ I may not' stand! I \ have made 'my children,the slaves of trade, . !And'scarred their backs with the rod; For a bag.ofigold with a sword of steel :' .1 have bi'oken the laws'of.'God: ' ■ B.ut whenever a cause demands'my life, ' I have laid it down with a will; ..... For honour and love and a heart-wrung

cry . ■ ■ I can play the hero still. J[y feet are firm on the steep, straight way; though-1 doubt, if I understand: .Whether ,you lead or follow me, brother, • ■ lot us go hand in hand! . And stay not-behind, dear brother of mine, on.the road to the Promised Land. —Irene P. M'Keehan. :; : ■■ history. "Past is the past." But no, it is not ■past; • • ■ In us; in us, it quickens,, wants, aspires; And •on our hearts the unknown Dead have cast' •" The hungers, and the thirst of their desires. . ' • .

Unknown.the pangs, the peace we-too prepare!.■;, ■'-.'> •■■.■•■. '! What shakes'-.this- bosom ■ shall reverber- '. ate-;.,,'*-, , TCI -' j,,>yi»,vjraV :;■-■■■ i] Through .ages uhconceived; ,b,ut injdark ': lair \ . :, " - . , The - ungiie.j=cd, unhoped, , undreaded issues wait. -. . ... .' ; -..■', '/Our pregnant nets are all improphesied. :! Wo dream sublime conclusions; destine, i)lan, ■' ' ' "■ '.] '■ Build and unbuild; yet turn no jot .-. , aside ■;•■ -...-./.• ' '.',','■ ' iTHb' 'something "infinite ■ that' -nioves .in ■.",' man. •.. ■ :.,,-, '.■..■ We write* The End where fate has scarce begun;' ' ' '■'.■'•' 'i And no man knows tho thing that he ; - -has done. ' : ' ' ' ■ ■ Lawrence Binyon. ■ THE UNWRITTEN WOED. , Think you the sovereign message of the skies ' . May not he .written on the melting snow?' '• O.v .•■• ;, The law , that Moses carried from the f 'Mount ' Was broken into fragments long ago! Not on a page of -sold or shaft of stone The'greatesV poet laid, His gentle hand— The only-words the Saviour ever wrote He scribbled on a littlo drift of sand! .'-..' . - ' '■ — Aloysius Coll.

LULLABY. Ah, little one, you're tired of play, Sleep's, fingers rest upon your brow. You've been a woman all the day, .You'd be a baby now; Oh, baby, my baby! . .You'd be my. baby now. Perhaps you had forgotten me, Because the daisies' were so • white. But now you come to mother's kneo My little babe to-night; Oh, baby, my baby! My , baby every night. To-morrow, when the sun's nwake, You'll seek your flowery fields again, But night shall fall and for my sake You'll be a baby then; Oh. baby, my "baby! My little baby,' then. And you'll £iw big, and love will call. Happen you'll leave me for your man, And night times when tho shadows fall IJI greet as mother can; Oh. baby, -my baby! As only mothers can. '■'■'-'■ '•"'■ But now, my little heart of May, Lie closely, sleep is on your'brow, ton tc been a woman all tho dav, loii d be .my baby now; " On. baby, my baby! My little babj now. ' Kichard Midtlleto'n.