VERSES OLD AND NEW.

Dominion, Volume 6, Issue 1581, 26 October 1912, Page 9

VERSES OLD AND NEW.

.THE WAVES OP BREFFNY, [The grand road from the mountain goes shining to the sea, And tnero is traino on it and many a horse and cart; But tue ntue voaas of Cloonagh are dearer iar to me ;;' , And tne little roatts of Cloonagh gorambling through my heart. ;. A great'storm from the ocean goes shouting o'er the hill. And tnere is glory in it, and terror on tho wind; : But the haunted air of twilight is very '■' strange and still, i ; And'tne little winds of twilight are 1 -dearer to my mind, ! : ffhe great waves of the Atlantic 6weep ■ storming on their way, '■''.. Shining green and silver with the hidden herring shoal; But the little waves of Breffny have • • drenched my heart in spray, ( And the little waves of Breffny go 6tumbling through my soul. ■■'.'' —Eva Gore-Booth. THE GREAT MISGIVING. ! 'Not ours,", say some,- "the thought of death to dread; Asking no heaven, we fear no fabled hell: ■ Xife is α-feast, and we have banqueted— Shall not the worms as well ? "The after-silence, when the feast is o'er, And; vojd the, places where the minstrels ■": stood, ' , Differs in'nought from • what hath been before, ' , And is nor,- ill nor good." . &h, but. the Apparition—tho dumb sign— The beckoning finger bidding me ttrgo {The. feUowship, tho converse, and the ■-' wine, ' • ■ ■ The soUgs, the festal glow! Hid ah, to know not, whilo with fiiends I-sit, , ;'And while the purple joy is pass'd ■-. i..' , about, (Whether'tis ampler, day divinelier lit '. Or homeless night without; iAnd whether, stepping forth, ' my soul - ■ sha.ll see New. prospects, or fall, sheer—a blinded .' thing! . . ' . There is, .0 grave,, thy hourly victory, .•■ . And .there, 0 death, thy sting. • . .■■ '. ' —William Watson. FIAHMETTA. ffhee,' only, Fiaminetta, have I loved ■In-tho budding and the summ'ei's bloom ;■ Tho' tne gray autumn every flower entomb, . • '.. !Tho' winter whiten all the skies above, Thy- roses still shall blossom in my .■ ; ' heart,' , . .With; vague, sweet perfumes, mystic as thou art. ■ iWhat nanie is it that thou art called, of men? O'er wnat bright meadows come thy ■ lingering feet? ,What happy streams thy silver songs repeat? : I only, know that I shall know thee thenThen, when thy face bends to mo from ' .on high, tWhen tnou shalt speak the name thou . ■ . know'st me by. . ■Ah, Fiammetta, I am grown so gray— -. Gray irith the weariness of waiting , ' C thee— That if, dear love, thou come not speed- . ily, . • ' [The darkness soon will cover all the day. • . Yet I must .. wait ■ thee, tho' the light ;•;■■-(' ■■:.«. begone, ■.;.'.-. .'-. .•:!.-Knowing'that'thou wilt greet me at the '•""dawn! "" T.T-.'""- • '" '-' ?"■* ■ : tr,, ';.;.; """"■"■ , —Buffield Osbbrhe.

THE BOLD. UNBIDDABLE CHILD. Noufi" what. is rho • after below in tlio street?- ■' -. i (God save' us he's terrible wiI<TI) la it e'tirria' tho gutter around with his '. feet? '.' :■ He'd "test bo aware when the two of us meet. ■ ] . Come in out o' that, ■ ' Comoin, ■ You bold unbiddable child! He's ' after ' upsetting the Widow Foy's pail— . ■ She'll m'urder Mm yet, Widow Foy! An' he's; pullipg.the niassaoreo dog by the tail. ... By the hpkey! that young one is horn for . ■ the gaol.Come in.outV that,: Come in, ■ . .You'rogue of avillyainbus boy! -Go-tell hSm-his pother is seeking a stick Tor a boy that is terrible wild. If he Scares for his feelings ne'd better bo craick.. '. !och! ne'll. draw in his horns when he ~ ■-. 6ees me, will Mick. Come in out o' that, Come in, ' Xou-bold unbiddable child! , .: -W. M. Letts.