ESSAYS IN VERSE

Evening Post, Volume LXXXIII, Issue 94, 22 April 1911, Page 13

ESSAYS IN VERSE

WE LIVE BUT ONCE. We live but once. For you for me, This world is but a country strange, We travel through ; suns rise and sot — Our joys and woes are goals of change. We live but once. We have not time For loitering along the years, With bitter feelings — clasping space In discontent and myriad fears. The goal of life lies not in dreams Of treasure or of triumphs small — Of pleasure seen through golden dyes, That earthly smiles perchance enthrall. We live but once. For j'ou and me, The sacred fires that pulse and speed Within us are hte's master-touch That spurs us to our spirit's need — That teaches us, our own soul's light, Shall show us how to build sublime Our lives. And keep our pages white t } Recorded in the Book of Time. We live but once. Friend, you and I Know that the heights we strive to see Are lost in clouds. We will not tire; The spark divine guards you and me. — Racey Sohlank. Queensland Observer. A GRAY DAY. I may not, this gray day, elude A cloudy melancholy mood ; The thrush its ecstasy withholds. Hid in the thicket's leafy folds ; The vagrant minstrel wind forgets To finger its elusive frets ; Yet joy and song but wait the drift Of yonder wrack to leap and lift, While, like an April-buddod bole, I, too, await tho golden rift To take the sun into my soul ! — Clinton Soollard. Ainslee's Magazino. ! POPLARS GREEN. i My heart went out to find the spring. Spring there was none. No leaf, and not a bird to eing; Birches wintry white and cold; Grasses gray and meadows old; My heart went out to find the spring. Spring there was none. > We passed along the blowing wood. Out to find the spring. And nothing save the wind was good — But soon we saw the poplars all, And as a maiden each was tall, And each was dancing where she stood — Out to find the spring. My heart went out to find the spring. Long was the way — Bue we found the fairy thing. It hid among the poplars green And whispered soft — and sighed between. My heart went out to find the spring. My heart found the way. — Mildred M'Neal Sweeney. Hampton's Magazine. SONG. • My dear^who dreams of growing old When Earth seems growing new 1 What thing save death could touch with cold The heart that's nearest you? A man's not old who plucks a bloom And halts to hear a song : Time brings regret, but never gloom To him whose love is strong. And so, when snowdrops shine, my dear, And blackbirds bravely sing, My heart that sighed to lose a year Grows glad to gain a Spring. -J. J. Bell. "Clyd6 Songs and Other Verses."