Poets’ Corner—

Sun (Auckland), Volume I, Issue 263, 27 January 1928, Page 14

Poets ’ Corner—

THERE IS QUIETNESS AMONG THE LILIES (Written for THE SUN.) There is quietness among the lilies Here beside the pool, On the face of the mater still is Their image, and beautiful. Blue evening has brimmed the chalice Of the sky, and the night is all A rustling of wings in the valleys, And the earth’s breast lies cool. Under the trees where the grass is Purple, and faint flowers gleam, 1 am seeking in the quiet places For a half-remembered dream. But the trees whisper “All passes” : Though you call her she will not come She is gone down with the roses, And her red lips are dumb. A. R. D. FAIRBURN. Auckland.

FRIENDS ON THE DOWNS. [Written for The San.] In a rough tweed suit and carrying a knapsack. And smoking a good old briar, Wandering on the sunlit downs at England Companionless, a man can never tire. For striding down the road and all about him March other men, men who loved the downs; And in their time they loved the roads of England And her little sleepy towns: Over the white road leading to the twilight, Greenwood Robin leads bis merry throng, Searching for an Abbot, a portly pompous Churchman, Ambling sedately along. Gloriana, brocaded, laughing with a favourite; Yokels running, eyes bulging wide; A khaki gun-team, racing hell-for-leather, Limber creaking, swaying side to side; Tarry British sailors for the Beet of Nelson; A squadron for the war in Spain; Cavaliers clinking the metal on their harness, Englishmen—home again. Plantagenet and Tudor, passing down the white road With laughter, or pride, or tears; Hanoverian and Windsor and Stuart, The pageant of a thousand years . . . In a rough tweed suit and carrying t knapsack, And smoking a good old briar, Wandering with the ghosts of England For his friends, a man can never tire CffARf.ES STUART PERRY.'