GEMS IN VERSE.

Manawatu Herald, 8 September 1896, Page 4

GEMS IN VERSE.

Bfollie'« Problems.

There's lots of thing? I cannot understand. It really makes no matter how I try. One's why the brown comes on my littlo band Because the sun is hot up in tho sky. X never understood why birds eat worms Instead of pie and puddings full of plums. I oan't see why a baby always squirms Or why big boys are 'f raid of little Bums. Z cannot understand why doggies bark Instead of talking sense like yon and me, And why the sun don't shine when it is dark, Instead of when it's light, I cannot see. Z wonder what it is makes children grow, And why they have no wings like little flies. Bat pozzlingest of all the things I know la why grandma wears windows on her eyes. —John Kendrick Bangs.

A Transmigration of Souls.

It wm whispered by the sages Of the prehistorio ages. When all newspapers and telegrams and letters were unknown, - That the heathen gods felt Jealous— 80 the ancient le.gends tell us— Whea tho happiness of mortals wm more perfect than their own. In the days that I have quoted You and I, dear, were devoted Tseach other with a fervor that we never, never &cc In tola age of Bhams and shoddies. For our souls wore Grecian bodies •▲ad found life a very pleasant thing in sunny Arcady. 9o the heathen gods grew spiteful, A* our lot was so delightful, AaA they said: "These twain shall live again when worldliness is rife. And when we are out of fashion They shall nurse a hopeless passion And shall learn that 'Lovo' counts 'nothing' in the game of human life." Yet we love again today, .dear, In the old ecstatic way, dear, Tboogk we ace each other rarely and our paths lie for apart. Aaoient gods and modern London B*v« been overthrown and undone Wtett they tried alike their utmost to expel you from my heart. And my people oak politely How a friend I know so lightly Gas be more to me than others 1 have liked a year or so? Bat they cannot aolvo tho mystery Of oar transmigration's history, Aad they're no idea I loved you those millenniums ago. —Ellen Thorneycrof t Fowler.

f ————— i The Bore.

c Anin I hear the creaking stepl He's rapping at the doorl Too well I Know the boding sound That ushers in a bore. t do not tremble when I meet The stoutest of my f oe9, But heaven defend me from the friend Who comes, but never goes. fl» drops into my easy chair And asks about the news, j He peeps into my manuscript ' ■-, And gives his candid views. fie tells me where he likes the line i And where he's forced to grievel Be takes the strangest liberties, But never takes his leave. He talks about his fragile health And tells me of his pains; Be suffers from a Ecore of ills. Of which he ne'er complains, And how he struggled once with death To keep the fiend at bay; On themes like those away he goes— But sever goes away. Be tells me of the carping words Some shallow 'critic wrote, And every precious paragraph Familiarly can quote. Be thinks tht writer did me wrong; He'd like to vun him through! Be says a thousand pleasant things, But never says "Adieu!" — J. G. Soxe,

Philosophy. I

Yon say that I love my life Too wall, and it may be so. X love its peace, I love its strife. Its glamour, its gleam, its glow; The mountains, the ocean's wrath, The tiniest stream that sings, The robins that flit across my path. The flash of the eagle's wings. I am glad when (ho day is born ▲nd glad when the day is done; f kiss my hand at the rosy morn And smile at the setting sun. The blossom will fall to dust That I wear on my breast today: ' Tonprrow will give me roses just A* fresh and fair and gay. Lairing my life so well, Ten think I must dread to go To the strange beyond. Nay, nay, I tell Yon, Just as I long to know AU the fullness that can betide • ' ■ fhtoUfe of mortal breath. Ail Joy and pain, 6inoe men have died I. too,- would taste of death. - ' Ift le worth one's while to live : . .: to look on the sea and sky; " JMd Josttoitnow what death can give It U worth One's while to die. — Carlotta Perry.

A Prayer. I

- Thank God for life, |k««ifc fhsoffc it brings much bitterness and Mm *U aw fairest dreams are wrecked and to* Bjw ttMfh. there is more ill taa&eoodlnUfe, ,W» tUttt ty Ufa and reckon not the cost. Thank God for life. Thank God for love, 9tff tfeooeb ao&etimefl grief follows in Its wake, itttt W» forget love's sorrow in love's Joy AM ttarish tear* with smiles for love's sweet Oalf la heaven Is bliaa without alloy. ...:_■. Thank God for love. Thank God for pain. Jfo t*a* hath ever yet been shed in vain, Am in the end each sorrowing heart shall ■ -.find Jte owa&but blßßSings, in the hand of pain, tna wban he smile th, then is God most kind. Thank God for pain. Thank God for death. Wl* teoehM anguished lips and stilla Urn tewtb M 4 Wingtth peace unto each troubled breast Wnm wWoh all grief hath flown? Oh, blessed de«dil 00d%«veeUstgifti The name in heaven la NMI Thank God for death. \ \.\. $. ._, ; —Marie Joussaye.

Deed*, Not Words.

PHU* thoolttine words; the thoughts control n*t Q'«r4hee swell and throng; fb«»wUloq*demn within thy soul Jkaa oarage to purpose stafing. BM fct who leta Ms feeUnRS run Ib toft luxurious flow l^l tut ■ when bard service must be done Aad faints at every woe. 9Wth*B meanest deed more favor bears Wnere hearts and wills are weighed YfcM brightest transports, choicest prayers, Tbat bloom their hour and fade.

GrloC

M« can counsel and speak comfort to that grief Whlcb they themselves not feel; but, tasting it,--sJ*fir counsel turns to passion. —Shakespeare.