Selected Poetry

New Zealand Tablet, Volume LII, Issue 52, 30 December 1925, Page 32

Selected Poetry

- SONG OF PRAISE. '■ (For the N.Z. Tablet.) Cold mountain tops that gaze up at the moon, The galloping storm that with Thy wrath ■':...; . is shod, The desert vast, and the brazen sun at noon, What mighty things are these Thy works, 0 God! A snow-white seagull afloat on a turquoise . sea, Pale moon-dust sheen on a flowered woodland place, The hillside where the scented gorse flames free, 0 God, how beautiful must be Thy Face Cool crystal dews, and the jewelled sky that ; gleams, Rose sunset glow on a slender swaying - . tree, The tender eyes of one who holds my dreams, . Dear God, how very kind Thou art to me! Nellie A. Brophy.

. RECIPROCITY. At last life comes to fit me Like a well worn shoe With the outer heel run over And the sole half through. It was difficult in breaking. It pinched. It cracked. It squeaked. And there never was a shower But the poor thing leaked. I wore it . . . well, I had to . . . There was no exchange you see. But at last I shape into it And it shapes over me. Charles T. Lanham, in America. TWILIGHT AND THE MAKOMAKO. Night on the forest is falling, Slowly the day leaves the hill,. Birds from the converts are calling, Calling in tinkle and trill: Medley of harmony ringing, Musical, mellow and chiming; Night-airs a-quiver with singing,— Jangle of sweetness and riming! Twilight is gone from the hill, Dark are the woods to the moon; All the sweet voices are still, Darkness has come too soon. One lone bird forgets v- That the white moon is climbing; .•■j.While over a hill a star sets, 5 It is chiming and chiming: Bell-birds, softer than bells, .-.Bell-bird ever in tune, What god in your bosom dwells? What passion your bosom swells ' As you chime to the climbing moon? ;J _". ' —Johannes C. Andersen.-

THE ANSWER OF THE DAYS. I sometimes turn from these dark days that be Backward unto the fair days once I knew— The far, fair days when all the world seemed true, Ere yet I learned that joy had wings to flee. "0 Days," I cry, "so wonderful and blue, Come back again; come back and bring to" me The silent laughter and the vanished glee; Come back, dear days, I swear to cherish you!" Then back on me with sad, reproachful eye Each old Day looks, and voices without sound Come from them: "Mortal, cease that bootless cry; We came to you bliss-laden, and we crowned Your soul with joys; and after all we found You blest us not, but smiled to see us die." J. O'Regan.

IMMORTALITY. At twenty-five I cast my horoscope, And saw a future with all good things rife A firm assurance of eternal life In worlds beyond, and in this world the hope Of deathless fame. But now my sun doth slope To setting, and the toil of sordid strife, The care of food and raiment, child and wife, Have dimmed and narrowed all my spirit's scope. Eternal lifea river gulfed in sands! Undying fame — rainbow lost in clouds! What hope of immortality remains But this: "Some soul that loves and under* stands Shall save thee from the darkness that enshrouds;" And this: "Thy blood shall course in others', veins?" —John Liddell Kelly. awn." A RANN FOR THE ANTRIM HILLS. Och ! sorra take the wanderlust, That made me leave behind The misty hills of Antrim That rise in my troubled mind. Och! weary on the mighty ship That bore me o'er the sea, For the misty hills of Antrim Lie between my love an' me. Och! to see the sunset fallin' An' the nine glens wrapped in shade, As the twilight silvers "Slemish" Where "Patrick" wept and prayed. Or to hear "Glenarriff's" water, Tumble down with muffled roar, Or the soft rain splashin' gently r . ." ; On the rocks around "Parkmore."

Just to wander in the moonlight, • . T In the dark vale of "Glendun," ,/■ ; Or to "pad" the road Jo grey Glenshesk In .shadow or in sun. : -';. '.T-': To view again the heather spray, ~ , To hear the laughin' streams: t But och; the hills of Antrim ( Stretch away /beyond my dreams.' ,'• . —Seamus O'Doherty, in the Irish World. MAORILAND. Child of Old Empire! Best beloved, alone The wizard moon and all her starry s fays Have made their mirror in thy waterways, Beneath the shadow of the red sun's throne: When the sea-hero burst into thy zone Of Dreaming Silence, through" the purple haze, What lucid visions lit his raptured gaze, What heart-hopes sang to ocean's monotone! And he, perchance, hath joy of thee to-day, Who won thee from the unrelenting gale, The hopeless calm and the inconstant breeze ' Where, out beyond Death's sea-track, worlds away, The winds are wooed by his triumphant sail To mad airs and-sonorous symphonies. —D. M. Ross. SSSs THE HOUSE WE BUILD AT LAST. How small the house we build at last! How strangely altered is our pride; One darkened room is all we ask, No garish light on any side; . , J* One narrow bed for perfect, rest, \ One bed—there is no other guest . We build it safe, for use, not show (All our vain fancies are outworn), -•-'" The roof is very plain and low, • We have no care for praise or scorn; V. We learn such perfect taste at last, When all our vulgar pride is past! We have no care of those who come No fear that they will smile or jest At our small solitary home, Or say that this, or that, were best; For in our city, each and all ".""•• ' V. .V Build very quietly and small. -""->;,■"" We have no restless love for change, No wish to climb, no fear to fall No craving for the new or strange, No rude, unseemly haste at all; We've learned the perfect grace of rest, We've learned that silence is the best! *; ■ The storm may rave, the storm may cease, ! r Or kingdoms sink, or kingdoms rise; ;■: It never breaks our perfect peace, : v< Whate'er befalls beneath the 7 skies j'\WS& Our lowly house, and narrow land :" Are'safe from envy's cruel hand. •'■.:- ■"";' .^ Ah, yes! the home we build at last, v ; : Is better far than all the rest, "\ : SB| What, though the . vanity is ) past! : < '- : ' What, though we have no pleasant guest I .^ We have forgotten quite to weep, . v ' And learned to be content with sleep. <■ ?r ~ 'i Francis Sinclair.