VARIOUS VERSES.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXIX, Issue 8220, 25 August 1906, Page 3

VARIOUS VERSES.

LIFE.

A little dreaming by the way, A littlo toiling day by day; A little pain, a little strife, A little joy—and tbat is life. A little short lived summer's moru, When joy seems all so newly born, When one day's sky is blue above, When one biid sings—and that is love A 'little sickening of the years, The tribute of a few hot tears; Two folded hands, the failing breath, And peaoe at last—an:l that is death. Jast droaniinfe, loving dying so, The aotors in Jho drama gn— A fitting oieture on the wall, Love, Duatb, the themes; but is that all? —Paul Lawronce Dunbar.

THE RIVER

' Where art thou flowing, River? Down to the mighty sea. Madly tossing aud lushing for ever, Whenever still., will tnou be? ' Where art thou flowing, 0 River? Could I but follow thee! i Down, down to the miubty Ocean, Down, down to the mighty Sea. What seorota hast thon, 0 River? What secrets has thou from me? • Pernaps thy suornts, liise other's, Are buried in the Sea. Flow on, flow on, gentle Kiver! Heedless of how time flies. i Flow on, flow on for ever I Flow on till this great earth dies! —F. J. Gaylor.

LIFE HUNGER

' ! The shadowy woods stretch and cool aud broivo, Green lie the fieldß before my careless feet; < Bat, ob, I long to wander up and down The tangled stream of some grim city street; '.To drain once more the cup of crowded life, To watoh the failure, and the falling crown, " iTo read the laughter and the tears of strife, To weace tatters into things complete, •And all my lonely past and future drown In those dark waves of life that round me beat.

A ROAD SONG

A road in the san with the winds for play, A lilt in my heart to the tune of [the day, The blue of the aliy and the green of the sea, Through the roll of the years sing delight to me. A wood depth skirting the open way, The rain-cloud dashing my face with its spray, The gleam of the sea and the gloop of the sky, Sing the song of the years as they pass me by. Shadows a-swiug at the noon of the day, A shimmer of stars on the darkling way, The cry of the winds to a leaping sea, Make the sum of the years doled ouf to me. —By Mary Lowell.

FORGIVE ONE WOKD

Forgive the word I Baid, Repentance cries. I dare not say I did not mean it, dear. That is the thorn in mem'ry's rose. I hear Again the murmur of your sad surprise; I see the wounded pain in your blue eyes That brimmed an instant with an unsbed tear, Then bravely met miao cwn serene and clear, It all ooiaea back—-that day when smiling skies And wbisp'ring treetops and the singing brook Filled life with tender melodr and made Each hour a song. Yet, dearest, do not grudge One little ousb word, for he broke my hook And line and was a pound if he weighed An ounce. You would have said at least: 'Oh fudge!' —by Maurice Smiley.

THE FACE OF THE SLAIN

There oomoa to a man iu the light and the rain The iaoe of the slain! The greenest turf hath a crimson stain, . And the wine's blood-red when his lips would drain— Corse of the valley, and blight of the plain— The face of the slain 1 In peace—in pleasure—in passion and pain, Gomes the face of the slain! He cries to the solemn dark in vain To hide that face—for it.lives again And shall, till it sears hio heart And

brain— That face of the slain