VARIOUS VERSES.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXIX, Issue 8294, 24 November 1906, Page 7

VARIOUS VERSES.

each in his own tongue.

A fire mist and a planet, A crystal and a oell. A jelly-fish and a saurian, And a oave where the oave men 3 well; Then a-sensa of law and oeaufcy, A face tamed from the clod— Some call it Evolution And others oall it God. A haze on the fair horizon, The infinite, tender sky, The ripo, rich tint of the cord-fielde, And the wild geese sailing high—• And gll over upland and lowland The sign of the golden-rod— Some of as oall it Autumn And others oall it God. Like tides on a crescent sea-beaoh, When the moon is new and thin, Into onr hearts high yearningß Come welling and surging income from the mystia ooean, Whose rim uo foot has trod— Some of us oall it Longing And others uall it God. A picket frozen on duty, A mother starved for her brood, Socrates drinking and bemlooK, And Jepns on the rood; And millions' wno, humble and nameless, * The straight, hard pathway trod— Some oall it Consecration And others oall it God. —William Hubert Carruth. SONG 0* THE SOULS THAI FAILED. We come from the war-sw«pi; valleys; Where the strong ranks clash in might* , Where the broken rear guard rallies For its last and losing fight; ! From the roaring streets and highways, Where the mad crowds move abreast, We come to the wooded byways,. lo cover our grief, and rest. Not ours the ban of the coward, Not ours is the idler's shame; If we sink at last, o'erpowered, Will ye whelm as with scorn or blame? We have seen the goal and have striven Aa they strive who win or die; We were burdened and harshly driven, , . And the Bwift feet passed us by. When we hear the plaudits* thunder, And thrill to the victor's shout, We envy them nol, nor wouder At the fate that oast us out; For we heed one doubio only, The sweet far Voice that calls To the dauntless soul and lonely Who fights to the end ; and falls. • We come—outworn and weary—>' The unnamed hosts of life; Long was our march and dreary, Fruitless and long our strife. Out from the dust and the riot— From the lost, yet glorioas-quest, We come to the vales of quiet, To cove/our grief, and rest. —Marion' Oouthduy - in "MoGlure'e."

THE SONG OP THE THRUSH. Overhead, overhead a wood thrash flutes, And it seems to me > All the sweet words in the world, Married to melody, could not ex press' What its few, wild.notes, Inspired, and simple, and free, express, Say to me Of expectation and woodland mystery, Dreams, and wonder-visioM never appearing Remote and unattainably beautiful— -0 indescribable song! Song of the «iJd brown thrush! OJune!' Olovel O youth I nf yoa, of yon it speaKS to me! Of the lost, the irremediable. The indescribably fair and far and yet to be found; ( The mysteriously bidden, too: The luro of the undisuoverable calling, calling, Bidding me on and on, In the voice of all my longings, Down thn dim, the deep, the oadenced aisles of the forest. —Madiscn Oawein, in the "Reader."