Poets' Corner—

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 369, 1 June 1928, Page 14

Poets ' Corner—

WILL 0’ THE. WISP (Written for THE SUN.) The little lambent flame of your halflove Flits fitfully across the dreary march That is my life, Creating tiny glowing points of fire. Bewildering and lovely in the gloom. But I have seen such little lights before And know their evanescent tricks of air, And know them false and fleeting as a dream, And so I follow not. And you, you icalk with all too wise a stride To set your foot on mire that’s fathomless .... And so the little laughing light flits on, And leaves the waste lands desolate again. —MARGARET MACPHERSON. Kaitaia. BLIND (Written for THE SUN.) Though 1 have lost the light 1 count it not a woe. For through my starless night Flock dreams of long ago, Brave dreams of old delight. Lost, lovely things aglow. That never shone so bright In days I used to know. I see the blaze of noon TJvon the world once more; And sunlit flowers all strewn Upon her meadow-floor; 1 see the earth again Wake from her slumbering, With silver*scars of rain Upon the skies of spring. The colours of the earth Flow through my darkened brain, And things of little worth Are now unbounded gain. Such things I did not prize When soul, not eye, was blind, But now I have not eyes They blossom in the mind. —A. R. D. FAIRBURN. IN MEMORY. [Written for The Sun .l Only one gleaming year ago — Birth of daffodils, flight of snow! You who are quiet', can you guess How Spring’s scarce-wakened loveliness Startles like golden sudden song Boughs that were leafless over-long} Darkly now in dew-soaked earth Small forgotten seeds give birth To slender-poised radiant wings: Petals light as lifted wings; And the linnet in the nest Has little wings against her breast. Opening its sunshot rain Wild hyacinths are blue again .... Dear, somewhere your dark tree of Death Has little leaves, and blossometh. Petals born in Paradise Brush dewy lips against my eyes. (Such their perfume, faint and rare , Who finds it shall forget despair.) Dear, not alone the spring-fires burn. Though sapling pine and soft-curled fern, Quickened by longings, stirred by pain, The soul bears purple bloom againl ROBIN HYDE. Christchurch. PUSSY-WILLOWS. It was at dawn I heard that spring had come. And with the wild, wet morn, I went to see. And there, beside the stream, spring’s flags were flying— Silver-grey catkins on the willowtree ! Silver willow, pussy-willow', on a willow-tree. Down came the rain's swift lances on the hills. And all the world seemed wrapped in mantle grey; But in my heart the sun was brightly shining— Spring had returned, I heard a bluebird say! Pussy-willow, silver willow, on a willow-tree! And though that night the wind blew fierce and strong And rain dripped ceaselessly the whole night through, I smiled to think of sunshine on the morrow; Spring could not be so far away, I knew, * With silver willows, pussy-willow's, on the willow-tree! EDITH D. OSBORNH. BOOKS IN DEMAND AT THE AUCKLAND PUBLIC LIBRARY FICTION ’AIRS. D ALLOW AY,” by Virginia Woolf. “THE STRANGER AT THE FEAST.” by G. A. Chamberlain. “ASHENDEN," by W. S. Maugham. “THE CABALA,’’ by T. N. Wilder. “THE SECRET BATTLE” by A. P. Herbert. “THE ETERNAL MOMENT,” by E. M. Forster. “SPOOK STORIES” by C. F. Benson. “DEBONAIR.” by G. B. Sterne. “KIM,” by Rudyard Kipling. “CHAINS,” by T. Dreiser. NON-FICTION “SOPHOCLES’ KING OEPIDUS,” by W. B. Yeats. “SOME MODERN AUTHORS,” by S. P. B. Mais. “THISTLEDOWN AND THUNDER,” by H. Bolitho. “FOUR ONE-ACT PLAYS,” by St. John Ervine. “ DISENCHANTMENT,” by C. E. Montague. “ART OF THE NIGHT,” by G. J. Nathan. “PRAYER AS A FORCE,” by Maude Royden. , “HENRY JAMES.” by P. Edgar. “THE WAY THE WORLD IS GOING.” by H. G. Wells. “A BOOK OF WORDS,” by Rudyard Kipling.