ORIGINAL VERSE.

Taranaki Daily News, 26 July 1919, Page 10

ORIGINAL VERSE.

THE DAY. Pall'n Is oppression; and the oppressor proud Is humbled; be his purple now his shroud. His blows have chattered not, nor bis flung fires Tortured to his desires The nations he has trampled; fire and blow Havo tempered and welded them to overthrow The arrogance of his Invested hordes Whose supplicated cross was the red sword'*

Now leaps from sea to sea The cry—The world Is free, Spent Is black hate, ended is tyranny— From a crushed people, now the tyrant know) Only the wine of Insurrection flows; And he, for all his craft Must drink the bitter draught; He from his culrassed eminence Is hurled, Losing his arrogant throne, who thought to rule the world.

Nov, though the thunder of the war be stilled, Is the red bravest over; those who willed This horror Into birth With It must fall to earth; Men must the dragon'and his seed destroy; In the fnith-abrogator put no trust; Red Is his sword with use, his truth witb rust;

His word is driven dust; He as the serpent does but slough his skin Loavlng his heart foul and unchanged within; Bluster and whine alternate, give no heed To any word of his; judge by his unmasked

deed ; Though he have worn ■ a crown Spare not to cast him down; Shnll kings from righteous laws Immunity enjoy f

So, then, 'tis over; and not all In vain The sobbing labour, and the burning pain. Clear we of despite now Our war-enseamed brow, Curb we the passions, loth to be leashed again; Not on his subject victims fall the stroke; Could they resist the lash, bending beneath the yoke?

Triumphant then, but not vain-glorious, be The cry, oppression ends; the world la free. Be nil the nations now Knit in a leagued vow That at no nation's dictate, no king's mood, Shall devastating war loose rapine, fir* and blood; Triumphant then are we, And all men free.

But, amid Jubilation, well we know A deep sad voice, wide-tongued, if murmured low, Saying—Though victory come The shadow will not go; Where are the voices now for ever dumb? The wildest exultation brings not home One single fallen well-beloved son, One dearest—no, not one.

Son-givers noble—'tis \o you we turn, Knowing how hearts have wept, how hearts still

yearn. Dry your tears, 0 ye mourners; weep no more; Though victory seized what It cannot restore, In pity lies relief, ■ Assuagement of your grief. Dry your tears, 0 ye mourners, thinking of those Whose brokenness no salve of comfort knows; Who husband gave, and son. And know no victory won; Who gave their blood, again and yet again. Whose gift Is proven utterly in voin; Allen In tongue, at heart the closest kin, ' How shall these comfort win? Crushed and heart-broken women on bruised knees. Pity, oh pity these.

Buoyant upon a hundred breezes toss A hundred flags, out emblem, and our cross. Not without suffering borno, though borao with pride, Our flan, with blood of ions brightened and sanctified, Who flung a rose to freedom as they died, Liberty, justice, equity and right. Follow its buoyant night; Under its shadow, weal for all Increase: Joy, where it widely flies, Follows on sacrifice; And now, when war and hate and rancour cease At last, Thank God for peace. —Johannes C. Andersen. THE ISLAND RAGE. (Written In 1914), Yes, the breed from the sea-girt Island's coasts. Where freedom is one of the nation's boasts Has once again to the battle for light Gone with their rollicking manners to fight. Roused by no strains of a National <Hyimi» But with a late comic, sung with great vim, They march to their glory—not to Ihelr doom— With Jteps to the music, with hearts to the tune. Oh, strange, Inexplicable British men, Tc must be beyond the alien ken I A race whose tears are always changed to laugh* Whose woes are always hid by jest and chaff; Yet 'neath such shenth grim purpose hides Its claws, And Britain's hearts, thus covored, fight her cause, Why shou''l her sons bo spurred with war. chants' din. When honour stirs their souls with honor'! hymn ? Ye Islands all encompassed by the western tea, Around whoso shores the ocean winds blow free, What mystic spirit dwells within thy racer Whence came this boundless freedom—lp?lni grace ? List I Ocean speaks: "Wild blow tho winds o'er ino; Wild break my waves on these Islands so free. Though I enchain them, and shatter their walls, My spirit 1 breathe them—Mine Ocean calls 1" Unfettered these shores from confines of land, Unshackled by stern grips of ocean's hand. Self-contained as the bprders Is the race; Self-controlled are the people, stern their base, Below deep and placid, like depths of the sea, Above sport of winds or whatevor It be. Wonder not then, ye Continental men That insular souls are beyond your ken; The mountain spirit may stir your own blood. The soul of the plain may through you flood, Yet as long as Ocean gives Britain breath, Her sons will be smiling while facing death, And wage war for freedom and show such grace That future will bless them, this Island Race. „ ~_ , r-\V». Blcheno. Cardiff, August, 1014. PEACE. After the roaring guns have spoken, After many hearts are broken, Comes peace with soothing, healing balm. Like a holy restful calm. Proclaim it to tho people, From every tower and steeple, Let the Joyful tidings ring This message from the king to tho people. Long may she. reign unbroken, This rule of peace now spoken. And never more may blast of war Bo heard on home or foreign shore. And Is there peace for all? Ah, no, For here that never can be.so., The gold wo Rave was only dross Compared with the great cnishlng loss Of limb and life Sunk In the strife. For many gave their, all, And saw them In the battle fall Where hundreds and where thousands fei! Amid the roar of shot and shelL lu fancy, still they seem-to hear '" i " , The din of battle, far. and near? *s In fancy still they seem to feel The crash of shell, the blow of steel; They seem to see In fancy still Their loved ones lying cold end chill On some rod field of battle, Where loud guns roar and shriek and rattle. Yet they may find sweet peace again. That comes |lke sunshine after rain. When they havo passed beyond this life „ W",» *•! "s want and care and strife; They 11 meet their dear ones again Where never parting comes nor pain, In brighter, better worlds above, 1 - • Where God doth reign whose name Is Love; Thtre gathered round His mercy soSi, Sweet peace and joy will be mmnletc They'll find that perfect peace and joy That comes In heaven without ally. Mongorei, July 15.