AT THE SIGN OF THE LYRE

Dominion, Volume 13, Issue 203, 22 May 1920, Page 11

AT THE SIGN OF THE LYRE

'Australasian Verse. ' To that excellent series, "Gleanings from Australasian Verse" . (Whitcoinbe and. Tombs, Melbourne and Wellington),the initial volume of which, "Poems of .-Manhood": was reviewed in this column a lew months ago, have now-been added "Nature Poonis," and "Love Poems."- Miss Mary E. Wilkinson has again been entrusted with the task _6f selection, and is now ' responsible,"- : for 1 two well-compiled anthologies which all •lovers of good pQetry will be glad to : pessess.. • Amongst those whose verse - is represented are such well-known New ZealundeiM as Misses B. E. Baughan ■Mary Colborne-Vccl, Jessie Mackay, Isa-: bel Peucocke, and-Mrs. Anne Uleuny Wilson, Messrs. Arthur Adams, Bartlett Adamson, J. C. Andersen, Hubert Church, Bryce Bowden, D. M.' Burn, and Will Lawson. The Australians include many well-known contributors t« tho "Bulletin," "Australasian," "Triad,' "Bockfetfow" and other well-known-periodicals. That thero 'aro certain notable omissions is no doubt due to copyright difficulties, but on tho other, hand, there .is much excellent verso .by writers who have not as yet come pro. Biinently under the public eye. 'The editor.« to bo congratulated, upon tliu catholicity of her taste, for the.range in poetic technique.' here displayed is agreeably wide. The typography of the two volumes is a positive, joy to- the. • eye. The volumes may be had in cloth' covers or bound in that soft limp leatherwhich so many book lovers, especially of tho fair sex, seem to find so attrac- • tive. As presents-to friends who find • pleasure in reading good poetry, these : books .could not well be surpassed.. Each volume has-a frontispiece", (incorrectly styled a "book-plate"), from-orig-inal drawings by the clover young Australia.! artist, Mr. Hugh M'Nally. . (Prio. 3s. Gd. in cloth; 9s. in leather.) "In Braid Scots." \ new collection of verse by the author . . of, that delightful, volume,. "Singing; to ' the Weans," is. assured of a hearty, welcome, iiot-only in New Zealand,-where "Robin Biochairn" is well known, but in his native Scotland, where his poems in "braid Scots" are held in high esteem. In "The Fireside Clime" (Paisley.: ; Alexander Gardner), Mr. Biochairn. dis-: plays the same keen insight into all-that-is best in human nature, the same spirit -. of kindly charity, the same intense love: of children and children's ways/the same ■-. unfeigned delight in the quiet'joys, of, • humble domesticity winch characterised ... .the simply yet gracefully -turned verses, ,'. included in "Singing to I the', Weans," 'These poems are a credit alike to the author's deft literary craftsmanship and the cheery but often very shrewd philosophy which they enshrine and express. There is a strong and very pleasant flav-' our of Burus in such a jioem' as that entitled "Aye be the thins ye wad: be ca't," from which 1 take the. final stanza:— .:•.-'.

Gin Ilka and this warl' within, Wad gi'e owre makin" vatn pretence, Eoo sune frae life wad hate an' strife, Envy an' malice a' gang hence, '■•; Syne a' wad ken their brither men An' aye the hale wad help the hqut; : Sae, an' ye wad for Truth conten', Aye be the thing ye wad be ca't. Eobin Blochairii is, however, at -his best in, this ohild poems such as "Wee Lassie Bairnie," "Come' Sup Your.Sowp," and the delightful "Wee Curly Pow." ■Where there is so much that invites'quotation, selection is difficult. Space limitations- are inexorable'' just nbwj "but '1 cannot refrain from quoting, three verses irom ""Wee Curly Pow" •—... Eonnie een o' azure bine, •'..,: Has wee Curly Powj Checks that chaws the roses' hue, ' - Eas wee Ourly Pow; . Mooth that's cryin' ayo. for kisses, Weys that ilka mithnr blesses, Wad ye ken what ba<rn this ia> Oor wee Curly Pow. W l ' his steer h"'ll turn my held That wee Curly Pow; Af f . I sweer he'll ho my deid Wad wee Curly J'ow; But my he'rt mak's haste to saf'en, Whan his daddie j'ine his daffin', An' I he?'- ihb merry leughin' 0' wee. Curly Pow. ■ , . Feet that patter a' the day' Crouse .wee Curly Pow; Hauns that muckle mischief play, Bauld wee Curly Pow; Wiles that win the he'rt o' woman, Whiles I think him mair than human, jlay he grow a, brave an 1 true man, . > Oor wee Curly Pow. . "Robin Blochairn'e" verses deserve to live as long as the "auld Scots" speech is held as a well-treasured Iheritage. His books are well worthy an honoured place on- every shelf where repose a volume, of Burns, or Mr. Charles' Murray's with." Mere Southrons, like myself, ■would fain see the poet give -us a volume in which, for once, he Would temporarily desert his well-beloved -Doric, and this, I trust, will soiwo day be forthcoining. - Poems by Beatrice Mayor. Miss Beatrice Mayor's "Poems" (Allen and Untvin) includo many gracefullyworded pictures of nature. A Maeterlinckian iniluence is perceptible in many of these verses. Verbal economy- is, in some of them, carried almost to "jjarsimony, as in the four verses headed "In a .Garden":— ,- It is late There ia no sound Only the leaves that fali, Tho air is cold White mists Walk ghostly upon the lawn. Oh, silence, Are,you listening? I am speaking, speaking. Oh, silence, You hoar nothing - ' Only the leaves that {all.

In "The Wind" the same motif is ' wked out in a slightly different vein:— Tho wind is walking in the tall flra, Their topa shudder. Listen. Be still, The long grey grass in the field stirs. It leans and -speaks with a low thrill .What is it saying to the earth? ' And listen, oh, listen to the sky, Eagged and all muttering with wild mirth, Swiftest, and- aloof from the others, Two pale embraced clouds, what do they ■ say? ; They aro chanting, chanting. . . . The chant smothers Soul, we hear nothing. Come away . We know nothing, nothing, only that a wind walks by. . Miss Mayor is not always so enigmatical, but I have no space for further quotations. Two Soldier Poets. The late • Lieutenant-Colonel Maitland Hardymaii, D.5.0., M.C., author of "A ■ Challenge" (George Allen and Unwin, . Ltd.), was but twenty-three when ho was , killed in action at Biefvillers. He was . born at Bath, educated at ■ Fettes College and Edinburgh Univer- . ..sity; and young as lie was, had taken a keen interest in politics when the war came, and, despite- his strong pacificist sentiments, he enlisted (in August,- 19U), and soon won a commission in the Somerset Light Infantry. A personal friend of Mr. Rainsay Macdonald, ha was on the Council of the Union of Democratic Control. As to his personal attitude to the war, the epitaph ho himself desired 6i>caks volumes: "110 died as ho lived, fighting for abstract principles in a cause which he did not believe in." Many of his verses hero colleoted reflect his views on the making of war, tho horrible wn«le of good human blood and energy, it entails, and, alas, its too frequent futility as a means to permanently, solving international problems. Ho did not believe- in war, but this did not prevent his deeming it his personal duty to Edit. The intense spirituality of his mind finds outcome in several of the poems, notably in "Via Crucis, 1916," the closing lilies of which I quote: Eord God, beforo Thy footstool A' humbled people kneel; Wo knew we wore truo metal,

Wo thought that we were steel, And we forgot the Futfiacß, Forgot the Gross, our plea. .Forgot that, we were streugthlesß Till tempered, Lord, by Thee; Forgot that all tffir virtues Are but as tlltby rags, Counted our strength iu armies. Our wealth, iu money-bags. ... Lord God, wo own our lolly. And Thou wilt Irear our prayer; Lord God, accept our sacrifice, . And in Thy mercy spare. From "Australia's Prayer" (Gallipoli evacuated, December 20, 1915) the two final stanzas may be quoted: Gladly wo gSvo the nouTeat of our youth To fight for England, and, we thought, • for Truth; Now, we. are weaker, numbed with con- '■ ■ , stanl painIs it in vain, Lord God, iB it in vain? Out of the rending silence God replied: ."You ask the triumph I My Son*denied; Have faith, poor soul. Is not all history Triumphant failure, empty victory " .'Tis but a slender little sheaf of.verse that Mr'. Eliot Crawsbay-Williams gives the-world'in ."Clouds nud the Sun" (Al- ' leu and Unwin), but the poet's intensity of feeling—the feeling of a sour in revolt against the folly and wickedness pi, war— cannot fail to impress his readers. In one of the most powerful of his poems he pains war as a foul courtesan tricked out with the tawdry finery of a specious .-'chivalry. In another he waxes sarcastic over the cry "Our Tight is God's." As thus:; ,' ■■ •:.;. Tell: me no talcs of Carrion-loving ' ffeds, .'■'••Who' fight for those alone, who, light • -for them, Mere" glory must nrevail 'gainst any oddsBlood will not build the New Jerusalem. Cease' howling each to his own" deity The while the devil rages unconfined; :Let Peace subdue tho smoke of war, and • ■ see '' ■■• ■ The God to Whom your bloodshot' eyes ■.are blind. In other poems the note of indignation against the shams, the injustices,.; the crimes of the world, is less clamant. A fine' spirit of human charity inspires such verses- as thoso entitled: "When I Am Dead": ' ■ When.l am dead, ifimcn can say ."'Ho, helped the world upon its way; With all his faults of word and deed. Mankind-did have some little need. Of what; he gave"—then in my gravo No greater honour shall I crave. ' If 'they can say—if they but can—' ' "Ho did.-his best, he played the man,His ways were straight; his soul was clean; His failings not unkind nor mean; He loved.his fellow men and tried To help them"—l'll be satisfied. "Nay,'when I'm gone, if even one ' Can weep because my life is done, . And. feel the world is something bare. Because I am no longer there; Call my work vain, my life misspentrNo matter: I shall-bo content.: