April 1914

Sommaire

• A catch for singing

  Said the Old Young Man to the Young Old Man :
  " Alack, and well-a-day ! "
  Said the Young Old Man to the Old Young Man :
  " The cherry-tree's in flourish ! "

  par Wilfrid Wilson Gibson
• The tram

  Humming and creaking, the car down the street
  Ivumbered and lurched through thunderous gloam;
  Bearing us, spent and dumb with the heat,
  From office and counter and factory home

  par Wilfrid Wilson Gibson
• The greeting

  " What fettle, mate ? " to me he said
  As he went by
  With lifted head
  And laughing eye,
  Where, black against the dawning red,
  The pit-heaps cut the sky :
  " What fettle, mate ?

  par Wilfrid Wilson Gibson
• The Ice

  Her day out from the workhouse-ward, she stands,
  A grey-haired woman, decent and precise,
  With prim black bonnet and neat paisley shawl,
  Among the other children by the stall,
  And with grave relish eats a penny ice.

  par Wilfrid Wilson Gibson
• The end of the world

  PERSONS.
  HUFF, the Farmer.
  SHALE, the Labourer.
  SOLLERS, the Wainwright.
  A DOWSER.
  MERRICK, the Smith.
  Mrs. HUFF.
  VINE, the Publican.
  WARP, the Molecatcher.
  Men and Women of the Village

  par Lascelles Abercrombie
• Love’s house

  I know not how these men or those may take
  Their first glad measure of love's character,
  Or whether one should let the summer make
  Love's festival, and one the falling year.

  par John Drinkwater
• Heaven

  Fish (fly-replete, in depth of June,
  Dawdling away their wat'ry noon)
  Ponder deep wisdom, dark or clear,
  Each secret fishy hope or fear.
  Fish say, they have their Stream and Pond,
  But is there anything Beyond ?
  This life cannot be All, they swear,
  For how unpleasant, if it were !

  par Rupert Brooke
• The gorse

  In dream, again within the clean, cold hell
  Of glazed and aching silence he was trapped;
  And, closing in, the blank walls of his cell
  Crushed stifling on him . . . when the bracken snapped,
  Caught in his clutching fingers: and he lay
  Awake upon his back among the fern,

  par Wilfrid Wilson Gibson