VAGRANT VERSE

Southland Times, Issue 18823, 17 May 1920, Page 4

VAGRANT VERSE

BALLADES WITH THE FINAL BL (Written for the Southland Times.) I.—THE COMMONPLACE. Simple deeds are a sacred rite, Sacrosanct, fitting the sublime. Each smile would prove a god bedight| Each word a jewel to set in rhyme, The world becomes a lavish mime, Apotheosis of one race Lifted beyond all greed and grime— A Prince knows not the commonplace. The Empire scattered wide in might, The spoils of war and art and time, Are but a trifle to delight A happy boy in youthful prime; The shouting blares, the great bells chime. And ecstasy finds every face Which feels the height* it cannot climb—i A Prince knows not the commonplace. Star-dreamers of the Infinite, Stragglers to win the fleeting dime, Ploughman or clerk or medalled And artists groping in the slime Stop work as taken in a crime, And burn as with an old disgrace To find in worship wild pastime— A Prince knows not the commonplace L’Envoi: Sire, cities built of rock and time, Hanging like trembling stars in spao* Are yours, each townsman’s paradigm— A Prince knows not the commonplacel 2.—THE DANCE. When Sappho cast her magic spell, Queen of the muses and the lyre, With beauty fragile as a shell Gathered from out the Nubian mint Her soul was all a lyric fire Coloured with glamour and romance, And she would claim her chief desirfr— The Ancient Order of the Dance. The gods of Greece forever fell Into some mortal’s quaint attire, And with great heroes strove to dwell And perish at their humble pyre; They gathered fleeting days and nigheJ They lived with fine extravagance Joining that rhythmic silent choir— The Ancient Order of the Dance. Terpsichore, of field and dell. Of crowded hall or stage, conspire To ring your measures as a bell Over each city’s crowded ire Over all sorrows cold and dire, Where beauty may not look askance. And .peasants claim their kingly «iroThe Ancient Order of the Dance. L’ENVOI: Prince, may the passing days prove higher Their mighty ends of hope and chance. Nor ever waste an hour nor tire The Ancient Order of the Dance. —Southerner, Invercargill, May 16.