... DANCING DAISIES-- A New Poem By Charlotte Draitt Cole Daisies in the meadows, When the night is done, Open their eyes, with glad surprise, And curtsey to the sun. Overhead, the skylark Merry music sings; While round and round upon the ground, The daisies dance in rings. Hand in hand they caper, Trip, and skip, and prance; With rosy blush, their faces flush So merrily they dance. When they spy ...

... THE GOLFER'S 1NVICTUS (With Apologies to the Shades of Henley) Out of the blight that follows me, Making my game a theme for bores, I thank my tailors, B. C., For my impeccable plus-fours. For my wrong clutch and awkward stance And other faults I pay the price, A drive that's straight is due to chance Mostly I pull, or slice. Yet though within this game of tears My foozling cannot be ...

... Topics there are comical That never fail appeal to make, Jokes antediluvian, That we can all enjoy Jokes on lodgers, Scotchmen, cheese, Or human molars versus steak. Jokes that made the helots grin When Plato ivas a boy. Jokes on Jews, policemen'' s feet, and Wigan-- These will never fail Jokes of Yankee boasters, And welshers on the flat Jokes on Channel passengers, That limp and helpless ...

... THEKE CAME THREE KINGS. From the Song Book of Cologne A.D. 1623 rT*here came three kings from Eastern land, I Star-led by God's Almighty hand, To Christward thro' Hierusalem, Unto the crib at Bethlehem. God, thither too our footsteps guide, To serve that Babe at every tide. 9 Within the star, so great and sheen, A golden-crowned Child is seen His sceptre was a cross of gold, His face like sun ...

... '(By his Great-Great-Granddaoghter) [Lines suggested by looking at his monument in Aldborough Church.] So here's the state, man, To which fame raised you. Were you a great man? Byron praised you. What was your mood, man, When death so ended you Were you a good man? Burke befriended you. You were a kind man, Your eyes affirm it. Of humble mind, man, In taste a hermit. Yet you were stern, man, ...

... February Fill-dyke, you came in with bellowing, Blinding rain and bitter breath, white ness on the fells But you leave us peacefully, larches now are yellowing, Ash and hazel shine, the birch purples all the dells. February Fill-dyke, though your skies were lowering, Here a day and there a day, sunny bright and gold, Bade the russet slopes put on beauty over powering, Made the mountain ...

... OUR POETS' CORNER IN VERONA I wandered idly to and fro At evening, when the sun was low. Through streets which oft in days gone by Re-echoed with the party cry t Though silent long, remembered yet) Of Montague and Capulet. And as roamed, as in a trance. On through that city of romance, It seemed a figure flitted by, A gallant youth with sword on thigh. And, as he passed, methought there met My ...

... |P p pf flpCT 3^^Prix'K] (EOT By AEFEEID) PEIRCEVA1L ...

... OUR POETS' CORNER COUNTRIES The country of my father was the stern, brave north, Where hillocks give but heather and the heights stand forth In jagged peaks and eerie that the witches haunt. That rise above dark cast es on their sides hung gaunt. Oh the country of my father was the stern, brave north 1 The country of my mother was the warm, soft south, Where date palms fruit in plenty and the ...

... . By James Stephens B Author of The Crock of Gold. THE BRIDGE Silver stars shine peacefully, The canal is silver, the Poplars bear with modest grace Gossamers of silver lace. And the turf bank wears with glee Black and silver filigree. FROM HAWK AND KITE Poor frightened one If we had seen your nest of clay We would have passed it by, and gone Nor frightened you away. For there are others ...

... By W. B. Yeats 1. There is grey in your hair. Young men no longer suddenly catch their breath When you are passing But maybe some old gaffer mutters a blessing Because it was your prayer Recovered him upon the bed of death. But for your sake that all heart's ache have known And given to others all heart s ache, From meagre girlhoods putting on Burdensome beauty but for your sake Heaven has put ...

... . A New Poem by May O'Rourke These, these are doomed to the solitary places. The noon is blind to them as they tread their mile With bitter lips, and sealed, averted faces Turned away from the sunlight's quickening smile. These are the banished sons of the earth and daughters. Hounded, cast from the cities of light are they: Their road is set by the waste, the brackish waters, The withering ...