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\ 4 LON™N © _Competition conducted by Poetry >: , Group of the Calgary Branch so - . of ‘the Ganidian Authors’ a poe ‘Aditatigh 4 ‘ ‘ \ . @ \ ‘ ‘ v ' _ ‘ , ° . ’ * Z ; : 4 -7 . ‘ . 3 . \
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Preface - vo
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On October 15, 1937, the closing datesfor the contest held by the Poetry Group of the Calgary Branch of the Canadian Authors’ Association, the committee reported a total of 1,126 entries, divided as follows: 130 Sonnets. 278 Lyrics, 189 poems in Free Verse, 466 Short Poems any form, and 113 poems on a Canadian Theme. Every , province of Canada was represented. There were 409 contestants.
The Group were fortunate in having as their judges Mr. F. E. L. Priestley, formerly head of the English Department of Mount Royal College, Calgary, now at Toronto University; Profesor Joseph Fisher of Victoria College, Toronto; and Dr. E. J. Pratt, head of. the English “Department of Victoria College, Toronto, and editor of Canadian Poetry Magazine.
. A prize of $25.00, offered by the Rt. Hon. R. B. Bennett for the best poem in the first four classes, was awarded to Gordon LeClaire, 2377 St. James St., Montreal, for a lyric entitled “A Half-Caste Prays.”
The Senator Patrick Burns Memorial Prize of gis. 00, offered by Mr. John Burns for the best poem on a distinctly Canadian theme, was awarded to Frederick E. Laight, 863 Queen St., Regina.
Prizes of $5.00 for first place and $3.00 for second were awarded as follows:
In the Sonnet Class first prize was won by W. Allister Reid, Westville, N.S., and secend by John Max Allan Sutherland, 65 Parks St., St. John, N.B. Honorable men- tion was awarded to W. J. Cowls, Kitchener, Ont., and Sara E. “Carsley, Calgary.
In the Lyric Class first prize was won by Gordon -LeClaire, Montreal, and second by Helen Elizabeth Ross,
Page Three
753 Wolseley Ave., Winnipeg. Honorable mention was’ awarded to Helen Elizabeth Ross, Winnipeg; Charles A.
Tupper, Tweed,Ont.;-F.Robina Monkman, 496a Ossington Ave., Toronto; A. A. Rattray, Boissevain, Man.; P. K. Page, Rothesay, N.B.; Myra A. I. Smith, Indian Head, Sask.; Sara E. Carsley, Calgary; Agnes Aston-Hill, Calgary; Elsie Fry Laurence, Edson, Alberta; and Beresford Richards, Athabasca, Alta.
In the Free Verse Class first prize was won by 0. J. Stevenson, Guelph, Ont., and second by John Max Allan Sutherland, St. John, N.B. Honorable mention was award- ed to A. A. Rattray, Boissevain, Man.; Wynn Rutty, Dundas, Ont.; Myra A. I. Smith, Indian Head, Sask., and Agnes Aston Hill, Calgary.
‘ In the Short Poem any form, first prize was won by
‘ . A. Al Rattray, Boissevain, Man., and second prize by © Bennett Scott of Queenstown, Alta. Honorable mention was given to F. Robina Monkman, Toronto; Beresford Richards, Athabasca, Alberta; Mrs. N. F. Boyes, Plenty, Sask.; Joan Buckley, Langley Prairié, B.C., and Lettie Ann Hill, Calgary, Alberta.
In the Canadian Theme Class the prize was awarded to Frederick E. Laight, Regina, Sask.” Honorable mention was given to Flos Jewell Williams, Calgary, and ‘to Irene
: Greer, 209 Canora St., Winnipeg.
The Poetry Group wishes to express its*grateful appre- J ciation to Mr. Bennett and Mr. Burns, whose generous donations have been an encouragement to Canadian talent, and to the Press for its valued support.
In accordance with the rules, a book containing the
poems which won prizes or honorable mention is being
- mailed to all contestants who paid an entry, fee of fifty cents or more.
Additional copies of the book may be obtained from the Secretary of the Calgary Branch of the Canadian Authors’ Association, Mrs. H. -E. Downe, 233 12th Ave. N.W., Calgary, Alberta, Price 35c per copy.
_Page Four Ry .
Sonnets
Reflections
aie
First Prize
HE thought of you is like a crystal bowl,
‘Bach facet perfect in its symmetry,
_ Lambent beneath the light of memory. .
. Polished with gentle, musing strokes, the whole
Reflects the care and patience and coitrol Which .went into your making, yet, to me, No crystal shaped ‘by man could ever be.
As flawless as } the structure of your soul.
So in. the thought of you I place my trust ‘And let it rest within that precious care, Its fluid surface now serene and still,
The sparkling crystal kept unmarred by dust. Proudly I watch it gleam and shimmer there,
And let no hand disturb it, lest it spill. .
—. Allis ter Reid.
eo
Page Five
“ee Sennet , AR ne - Fe ae ; : Second Lite). :
~~ 7 NTS
“HE earth will never rest the\same again,
' One day she may shake off the iron span, +"
_ Upturn this ponderous masonry of man,
And drag crushed limbs free of her giant pain—
The strong earth always waits to speak till death—
‘But fissured sears will bleed, pits gape ‘unhealed,
‘Thick hills of dust of ruins on every field
Will still choke up ‘her heaving gasps for breath. Even when at last those graves with grass grow o’er, That dust sucked up or blasted off with wind, - When quiet universal reigns once more, Something man-made will yet be left behind— Some mark of man’s dead earth with earth may lie
Embowelled deep—and everlastingly. —
. —Tohn Max dilan Sutherland.
%
' The Poor N narrow doorsteps, crushed by summer’s heat, Oppressed, they swelter in the fading day, 7
Complain of warmth, and talk of work and pay
And cabbages and people on the street.
The ragged children drag their dirty feet Along the pavement where they_needs must play. Too hot to run, in noisy groups they stay ‘ .,
And fight when some, dishonest, try to cheat. Ey - a
‘Do thoughts of trees that drop refreshing shade,
_ Of streams that through sweet-scented gardens wind
Make harder still the burdens that they bear? - When will that aged one see a forest glade? Death gives the answer——Death is sometimes kind—
She walks on grass and wind blows through her hair.
s ° —W, InCowls. a | -
The Tranquil Hour
New comes the enchanted, hour of firelit gloom, The harvest of the slow rich hours of day;
Wrapped in deep peace, we watch the shadows
> play, ~ . ”~ . “The flames break. forth in bright fantastic bloom. The quiet night enfolds our quiet room, And lilting night-winds lightly sing and stray; Each honeyed moment, as it slips away,
Leaves joy behind, a drowsy dim perfume.
Idly your fingers touch the radio— Across the world, the voice of murdered Spain Utters her anguish in a broken cry; Eastward, in air the thundering squadrons go, ’ Blasting the erystal skies with murderous rain;
The pitiless dawn awakes on doomed Shanghai.
—Sara E. Carsley.
~ Page Eight
Lyrics
A Half-Caste Prays R, B. Bennett Prize
“And hath made of one blood all nations of men for to dwell on all the face of the earth” .
ORGIVE, 0.God, the dccidental anger Fomenting through these veins, a seething flood Which vies with cool of oriental languor To form a bristling murk in mongrel blood. : ae
The East and West, though twain, in me commingle, -., Yet each reviles me and I brood alone—
The earth affords no corner for my ingle, ~ . °° No pillow for my head but hatred’s stone.
Why must this body, white as any mortal’s, Forever be-férsworn by eyes that slant? . Why must this heart-bird dash .convention’s portals, Foredoomed as’ any sea-mad cormorant?: on “yn Forgive, O All-Wise Father, if I wonder Why You Who made of one blood humankind, Predestined me to bea living blunder In whom.two separate bloods war fiercely blind. O Christian God, I’d hail this hybrid chrism - ; As one whom cleansing.tongues of fire baptize, If You would only halt this vengeful schism—- Subdue my soul to match these almond eyes!"
~ Cordon LeClair:
Page Nine
os ae id.
Little Miss April
Second Prize
ITTLE Miss April Trips o’er the hills. See, in her basket, Gold daffodils, Tulips of scarlet,
‘Hyacinths blue,
Snowdrops, anemones, Violets, too.
Tossing her basket, Beauty she spills
‘Down in the meadows,
Up on the hills. Fragrance and loveliness | Follow her feet
Just as once, formerly, Blossoms as sweet Bloomed in the steps of her Namesake of old,
Fair Aphrodite—
Lilies of\gold,
Starlike white moly, Violets blue,
Amaranth purple, Crocuses, too.
Out from her basket Beauty she spills— ~ Little Miss April,. Down from the hills.
“Helen Elisabeth Ross.
x
‘
When Love Has Spread His Wings
Wwe Love has spread his wings to fly, Oh, never hold him back, Or try td clip his shimmering wings,
Or follow in his track. a .
And vain it is to gild a cage, Or bind with silken band, . For better far is Love that’s flown
, ‘Than Love clutdhed in the hand.
font or
—Helen Elisabeth Ross.
Page Eleven
«
A,
I Am the Plow AM the plow. Look how I shave t The-black, rich earth into a wave; io “a,
J purr my glee, The soil is free Because of me!
I am the plow. See how I lead ; * The chirping birds to bounteous feed; i I cleave with pride, : _For by my side “With joy they cried!
Iam the plow. Hear-how I rasp The hidden rock with*tearing grasp: With zest I bound; For by my sound The stone ‘is found! 1 am the plow. Follow behind . . And honest work you there’ will find; Sweaty your brow, Grip firmly. now: I am the plow! x at
~ Charles A. Tupper. \.
Page Twelve
Last Harbour
sat S E has cast anchor in this’ last white harbour Of sea-bound hearts—here through the sunset’ s flame . id Long waves that break beyond the mist’s gray arbour Shall call him still by name.
‘ * And though at dawn his ship puts forth without him Her prow outswung to meet the rising years, | Still as of old the sea shall weave about him Her laughter and her tears. :
‘Here as of old, across his quiet slumber e
1
\
\
"Of shore-long hours, and days deep drowned in
Strong winds will herd the shadows into fold, And marching stars go by in endless number Their lances tipped with gold.
His heart will hear the tidal waters turning
- Across the breaking day, across the night,
Stabbed with the flame of bright Polaris burning. Upon the distant height. °
These shall be his forever now, the singing
Of chanteys loud, the tautened cable’s gtrain, And the far echo of a ship’s bell ringing,
And all the old sweet pain
dreaming, And wide years dusky with the weft of seas, And maidens’ smiles, and yellow tapers: gleaming On far, familiar quays.
And though the wheeling aeons sift their sorrow Along the cliff, and down the swinging deep, |
These shall be his through every silver morrow: -Hushed winds, stilled tides, and sleep!
—F, Robina ‘Monk nian,
\
Page Thirteen
Mae,
oz)
‘When Love Is Dead
HEN Love is dead, and memory brings but pain,
And broken dreams and hopes bring but
regrets, ,
’ ra ,
“The cold dead-ashes’ of the years between,
Stirr ovby ithe breath of past desire, can give
- But hedatsick longing for the might-have-been.
For Love is dead. The fragile fairy thing
We wove ‘of gossamer and moonlit nights,
Of youth’ and blown rose ‘petals purely white, .
Star dust and rainbows, irridescent dew,
‘
Twilight and dawn, that peerless, perfect thing
Is dead,—and I must walk alone.
Alone, beneath a rainfilled mournful sky
That lours upon a chill and barren land.
Alone, the while a soughing wind wails on
Of sadifess and despair within my- heart.
at
Page Fourteen -,
,
Alone, all gladness gone—since Love is dead:
A. A, Rattray. ,
7
2
ae
The Moon-Child
ITY the moon-child lost in mist,
* white flowers pinned in her dank, black hair, she, who has walked on moonbeams long and breathed only silvered air. Pity the moon-child—pale face shining, - long slim fingers around her knees, eyes like velvety deep dark caverns lighted with stars of’ fire—for she’s needful of moonbeams, who was born under the full moon’s light, of
. of a mother wooed by a leprechaun |
once on a Silvery night. Pity the moon-child now no trace . of moonbeams pierces the mist;
° pity the moon-child sitting there,
her face by the moon unkist— ; she, who-has~caught-the-moon’s bright -light - and dressed herself in'its sheen; .
she, who has danced to pipes of Pan,
a beautiful silver queen.
Weep for the moon-child, hear her moan, » lost in the fog and cold—~alone.
—P. K. Page.
Page Fifteen .
©
ee
_ Wild Horses
E saw them drink from a quiet stream, As clear-as their own dark eyes; . Their necks were arched in the sunlight’s gleam And they were beautiful as-a dream When they drank at dawn from a quiet stream, As clear as their own dark eyes. .
We saw them yun on the open plains Untouched by the whip and.spur;
The wind was soft in their tossing manes,
The love of freedom was in their veins,
As they ran for joy on the open plains Untouched by the whip and spur. .
We saw them stand on a hilltop high ‘With nostrils wide to the breeze,
Their forms were graceful against the sky,
And wild and beautiful was their cry
As they stood at eve on a hilltop high With nostrils wide to the breeze.
—JlMayra A. Lf. Smith. +
- . Page Sixteen
af
Love’s Farewell
OME no more, where I am Iaid,
- Tears and fading flowers to strew, )
Now that Death’s unswerving blade
Cleanly severs me from you.
Life was lovely to the last; - Love was joy, for ever new; ao
Now that life and love are past*-
J have other things to do.
Earth resumes me; once again Her design must be my care; ‘ I shall merge in wind and rain,
Mingle flesh and bone with her.
Busied in my task and trust, T am shaping, night and day, Beauty from the formless dust,
Living joy from senseless clay. Turn you to your life above;
Love it as you used to do; Think no more of me, my love;
I shall never think of you.
—-Sara F.C. arsley.
,
. Page Seventeen
Page -Eighteen
Masque FLIRT my fan before my face And bid the pipers louder play. Upon my lips light laughter ies,
But in my heart is dire dismay,
_For silently Azraé] stands,
Forever waiting at the door—
His sable shadow like a pall me
‘Upon Life’s lovely shining floor.
t
‘I hear. the rustle of his robe
Above the music’s measured beat, And oh, the sound—so sinister—
Reminds me that the hour is fleet.
- But when at last the dance is done,
The ballroom destitute of charm, I may be glad to drop my fan And gratefully accept his arm.
—Agnes Aston Hill.
- Harvest
EAP your fruits high, : . i Bind up your bursting sheaves, :
Proud in your plenty, chorus your praise to God. -Our song is wind Blowing through withered leaves, Bitter our harvest, wrenched from a barren sod. Shall we blame heaven, Deaf to our desperate need, Sending the locust, sending the burning wind; Pray for our flocks,
“
qi
Dying for lack of feed, Ele Cry with the prophets: “Where have thy pedple sinned ?” 7)
Was there a sign,
Message we could not read, c “tp . -
Coded in-frost, tapped out_in blasting’ hail?
- Faith in the spring, © . Follows the hidden seed: . ‘ Is there denial, seeing the fruitage fail? | .
No, there lives on | OS ' Spirit’s mysterious fire. i Failing that spark, how should our course be run— Humbled like dogs, Crushed as a toad in the mire.
. Dried by the wayside, knowing nor wheel nor sun.
Strike where you must;" So :
Doubt not that we shall rise, ae se Sweating or frozen, we who are Adam’s kin. ’ We who have lost,
Looked defeat in the eyés, ’ Greatly shall triumph, bringing; ‘that harvest in.
* Bie Fry’ Laurence.
a 7
2
_ J : Page Nineteen
I
The Votaries :
HEN the great world and. lesser sc grove . Are-stilled and hushedthe while the blackbirds 4 sing, es -
Then you may hear authentic voice of love And joy a-caroling. .
Into the cup whose rim is cobalt sky ‘
Pouring their meed of song each ardént soul, Though stillness is so deep, so wide, so™high, : They fill the lucent bowl.
“
Se ; Then is the star of faith | in beauty born, - so | ; All falterings cease and every doubt is, stilled In him who drinks upon a golden morn “.. : . a ‘Nectar from love distilled.
we
I think that God must leave the Heavenly tent,
. —_ Acceptance in His eyes, delight to please, . “ He is too kind ‘to be indifferent . . To those small votaries. : '
; _ For Him the dawn may inspiration hold— . Ah, most for Him to whom all loves belong— - Lover and Laureate, the rose and gold ‘ ‘Are His, and crystal song. .
—Beresford Richards.
‘ -
Page Twenty:
-’ The Magic Pipes
'HE elfin pipes -are playing, so, ° The fluting lips are - near, As: though the flowers swaying Made music sweet and ‘clear: ~ “Oh, listen, Lover, listen, your love is now and. here!” \
_ wv
ee
And day they are though lonely ae e 2
The airs the Pipers blow ~ i en
. Of song that lovers only. - ; ‘
And Juning blossoms know: ‘ se - “In joy,” the pipes are crying, “your singing feet shall go.” oo.
' What measure binds the flowers In weaving curye and line Has joined these vhands of ours, an Has bound your breast to mine: : “O Lover, hold her closer till beats her heart in ) thine!”
To me above you ‘leaning
The changeling pipes have said, . “Her lips are not for gleaning.” . — _ “Her mouth is warm and red.” .. ~«.
; Distracted -I, I know not what way my heart ise led!
a *
Of worship, bliss, or laughter -: , . ta
The Pipers cali the tune, <
And we, we follow after °
Upon the floor of June:
“Oh, soon,” the pipes*are crying, “O' Lover, ’twill be soon!”
,
. But not the flowers swaying
Make music bright as foam—
The magic pipes are playing
That pipe all lovers home: ’ “And then,” the pipes are crying, “true lovers never foam!”
-
—Beresford Richards.
«
4
; .
Page Trventy-one . .
mS
“u
To the Moon EAN close above the trembling boughs Thou white and lovely moon, Lean close, the night is fading fast And daylight comes too soon. /
Lean out from your bejewelled sky ~- With pale, gentle hands.
‘ Lean out across the sleeping earth.
Embrace the quiet sands.
‘ Tread gently on the sapphite sea.
Let fall your silver gown. Enchant the forést with its light, Bewiteh; the silent town. Lean close above the trembling boughs, : Thow=whitsand lovely moon. Lean, close, the night is fading fast : ‘And daylight comes too soon. a
aes Laat
_ _—Lotta Pierce.
Page Twenty-two ; 2
Villanelle.
ETWEEN the“moon and yesterday ) Two lovers met and said their say; With flutes and wine, two lovers met: ‘~
_ Two lovers met and spoke their play; Their mouths were bitter with regret;
They cursed, and wished they had not met:
Between the moon and yesterday, ‘ I saw the fair bondwoman lay The torch upon the parapet;
’ [ heard the distant horns at play; _. Lsaw her eyes with pity wet; ~ I saw two eagles in the net:
_I heard a striving spirit pray Where one frail candle lit the way; I kissed the crucifix of jet...
Between the moon and yesterday, Thus is the goblet decked with bay; So is the feast with agate set; With-flutes and sombre wine they met.
“ ,
—Neil Tracy.
Page Twenty-three .
A.
Free Verse
The Light of Remembrance
n
First Prize
- _ In a College Memorial Chape! a For Students Who Fell in the Great War.
“Put out the light— . - And then put out the light, "—Gthello, .
PY “« HE light’’—the flame, the ‘spark of life through the quick eye, .. re The body’s grace, the shapintg brain, the godlike will, f
»/° For these the light of life went outt a ; “Before the candle was’ well-Ntf <2 -
“ ‘Just as the flame, of youth bégan-to* glow, Pheiblast-of- ware xuinguished: tr va
Their names are here inscribed, read them who will: Davies and Delamore, Harkness and Hextall, Powys and Singleton, Winslow, Westra, Yul ., And many more,—so many, many more! For them the flame of life went out a At Paschendaele, and Vimy, Bourlon Wood, and on the Somme,
- /m murky stifling dug-outs; in hospitals at/dawn, in No
“Fs Man’s’ Land,
_, Or in the fields. of air while cloudless
Their light went out! But here within this vaulted room .
For nigh a score. of years this light has burned _ Ne
c / ; 4 . . ,
Page Twenty-four
+
6 we a
The Light of Remembrance (continued)
Daylong and nightlong still, as witness that the light Of these youths’ lives still fames within our hearts. How still it is within these walls!
But on a mellow autumn afternoon .
-On yonder playing field the young athletes
Speed to the racers’ “goal ’mid cheering throngs;
And flag and penngn flutter, and young girls
- Lend charm and colour to the vibrant ‘scene. °
And at the well- lov’d sound, sunk eyes peer forth again * From these dim casements to behold the scenes ‘
~ “In which of old they’ shared ; 3
And ghostly-figures mingle with the throngs.
But when the last shout dies -away, and the dim night Comes on they vanish in the gloom. © 7 Put ou the light? Nay. nay, “while memory holds 1: A seatgin this distracted globe,” N The light—their light—will burn with deathless flamé!,
‘ _0. J. ‘Stevenson.
s
we dae
Page Twenty-five
A
Street Passing Second Prize
r. the midst wo Of a shower of noise — . Tt seéms we meet {In a hollow space In silence, ~ And going past _ The warmth of our two selves “Brushes together. That instant when - Lo _ os Eye is drowned in eye Meeting the forbidden barrier, The risen self Impartial and detached Is aware of the nearness
Of strange possibilities.
Then the buildings stand beyond q And the breath has ceased. : oe
—John Max Allan Sutherland.
. Page Twenty-six . - ———
apr
%
Reminiscence
S when the fire,
Dead upon the hearth, Gréyed with cold ash, ~ Sends out a sudden flame To leap and make A fitful, flickering light
Within my darkened chamber’s quiet gloom.
So, when across the greyness of the years,
The errant fancy Wings into my heart, And your dear face, In all its loveliness,
ao,
Leaps all unbidden from the vanished past;
.
Then the lost years
Are but as yesterday,
And the lost love
Revives in quickened power
’ Within the empty chambers of my heart.
Thus, fitfully,
The sudden flame flares up .And then,—Reality. The'years obtrude,
Only the gloom is deeper, and the pain.
. a Rattray.,
gy
a
Page Twenty-seven
«The ‘Little Lambs”
ESIDE the dew-ponds iying dark and still In this dim moonless night, The little flap-eared stiff-legged lambs : - Press close against their Mother’s fleecy sides, . Bruising with every move the fragrant velvet thyme ’ That lurks amid the grass.
A fine small ray is sighing down, And ever and anon the rising wind Sweeps through Ahe tre Bringing in. gusts he music of the bells, The. Abbey bells playing brave melodies To the unheeding ears of drowsy little lambs, Whose only music is’ the clanking 0 of the bells Their Mother wear.
Upon the dank grey’ grass they lie, their noses . Buried in their Mothers” sides, the while they dream — Long ecstasies of sport upon the wold Beneath the sweet white looseness _ Of the Summer clouds, whose shadows play At hide and seek amid the drifts of bluebells All the day.
The gentle rain has spread a coverlet of pearls Upon their warm crisp fleece, The Abbey bells have given to the winds the prayer “Bless thy ‘little. lambs tonight,” But frolic and frisk the little lambs in dreams 3 Until. they come to rest In the dim pools of soft green light Beneath the Beeches’ youngling leaves; The little lambs The little tired lambs. ; - —lWVynn Rutty.
Page Twenty-eight
“Twill gather-the fruitless plans . ~ i
ta of
i a
!
i
ae uN “fF
at. sng
geet
we
‘oy ng
_ Autumn
UTUMN comes. And the hills are hung With quiet mist.
cab net ire) ri
+
There are fires along the vales oe,
And the hungry flames
- Are quarreling with fierce delight
Among the empty husks
‘And the withered leaves. Natyre has folded her arms
And she dreams, Rememb’ring the harvest she gave. ‘ * ou Ah
So shall my autumn be.
And the withered hopes ——— And leave them to hungry famiés! ae Le, And I will sit _ " , In the restful solitude. ” ae In the kindly glow of the falling sun .
And dream,
-Rememb’ ring the harvest I gave.
_—Myra A. I. Smith.
Page Twenty-nine
4 ~ “4 . ‘
Page Thi rly
Revenant
HHOUGH many feet may pass _
Above me—in the quiet grass— Pausing a moment where Earth’s common couch I share— L : Wrapped in the white sleep of peace, Shall lie, Nor hear them passing by. .
But ah, if you should come!
T shall hear your step above the storm And sigh : - In deep content. . And, I shall even know
Your tender thought— . “How lonely she must lie!” ....
And when at last
’ Your footsteps fade—and pass
Down the world’s wide way,—
I, with only the sibilant song
Of the grass
And the cool kisses of the rain-
To comfort me—shall pray
That sleep may fold me to forgetting—
y
~ Until you come again.
: —Agnes Aston Hill.
4
Renascent Spring
EAR, when you sent the sheaf Of dew-wet primroses, ‘ In whose cool cups é
_ ‘The fragrant nectar lingers,
You ‘did not guess
That their pale-petalled loveliness Would bring
Such dear remembering. -
ewer
‘Strangely, the foolish tears
Are falling— -
Across the years
Comes a cuckoo calling .... As I caress +
Hach grey-green , leafy"
-I go again }
Through assoft mist of rain Down the perfumed paths
Of that enchanted Spring
When Love once walked with me, In Arcady.
‘
—Agnes Aston Hill.
7
Page Thirty-one
ECAUSE one ageless bird in English glen Where perfumed rain distilled _ His soul in ‘rapture spilled Like some far-distant flute, ; And one great poet heard and hearing wrote, Shall I who hear the Self-same note , . - And long to speak because my heart is’ filled— . Shall I be mute? : ; Or all the birds forevermore be stilled, Dee -
"Never to sing again? ; %
—Gertrude BE. R. Shaw.
+o
\page Thirty-two
| Sea-Change
JF you came back to-day, ,
You would find me ‘in the garden Wearing the’ ‘game- green muslin frock That I had on — . The day you weit away. I would serve, you tea In the wild rose cup you used to like, a _ And we would sit and chat . ; a of flowers and books and philosophy (of a sort) As we used to do. . And you would think, . ; _ | “She hasn’t changed a bit! : . Here in this quiet backwater’ _Her life flows on from day to day Yatonehed and unperturbed.” You would not know . . Thad Shope was dead, That faith and love were dead; , And it was you who killed them . ~. Long ago. , ; ms . ms , —Georgina Helen Thomson. |
mere
~ Page Prt -three
V3 N fo fN
“}
.F ; *“.. First Prize
5 voy : £ ‘ é ‘ “» r . ,
Short Poems -
% ; ” ; - .\ _ Nostalgia. mh : : . . . : . en . Te level wheat fields, shimmering inthe heat, ,.-""” Roll in slow waves beneath hot puffs of wind, ee . Billows of grain that, rolling, heave and fall 7 ’ Like the Atlantic swell that, after storm, Sweeps in slow surges on the craggy shores Of Orkney and the rock-bound Hebrides: . Where cool, white mists caress the craggy peaks as That, clad in peace and the eternal snows, In Solitude and rugged beauty stand: . ; - Where soft sea winds, spray-wet, and filled with rain, . : Odorous of seaweed and of floating kelp, Bring far inland the screaming of the gulls, And, the -low booming of the breaking waves,
—A. A. Rattray.
“ ‘ we Intermezzo%in FA Fragment. — "Second rize
“Where my caravan has rested... 7” Y caravan has rested by still waters; Even by violet water stayed in peace, Where palm and tulip tree forever throw Their dim reflections on the pool below; And quiet lovelinesses never cease.
‘ 4
e I sat in silence by my open..door; 5
And the long wind of evening, blowing full From burning sand-hills merging into grey, Told the slow epilogue of closing day,
_ And stirred the moving shadows on the pool. oy
I sat in silence. And the evening came. The far horizon burned in living flame.
And then was gone. And from the waste, a moan, The voices of eternity, the last ©. Forgotten lamentation from the past,
« Or some barbaric reed-pipe hardly, blown, ° Moved in an age-long echo; and my mood Was one with aching deep and solitude. . °
~
My heart was hungryXand they brought me food, - Honey and.-milk’ and dajes; and by my door
I built a heath fie in the wilderness; Nt And became warm with loveliness, once more. - “Ss. Remembering long forgotten dreams, and fires av = ont . Of young ideals, and wandering ‘happiness: mo (\ | od , 4
fe . Se " Page Thirty-five
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. . , . . , . ‘ . : , . . . ss Ney Dyes : . 1 \
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\ ar . Intermezzo in F—A Fragment (continued) % spanned ‘ \
moves “on. I sit alone; and brood. im quietude, a stillness made Aware And pregnant with the dark, save only where The moonlight streaming misty down the sand “With some faint elfin lifeness fills the air, And ghostly down‘ a ghostly sand _ hill creeps. And still the long wind of the wasteland swells Dark water on the pool. Fall silent one’ by one
The camel bells
The desert sleeps.
—Bennett Scott
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ave—yearnings.—We—whose-souls-have_ : Light year and aeon where the star-beams ZO; ; Or ‘seen a world of caravans move-slow Lo . . To Bactria, or far-dreamed Samarcand, Leaving a passing footprint on the sand We who are one with solitude, we know. The nig In a
Penelope
- IKE melting pearls the limpid moments run ot Through valleys sweet with lavender and musk 5." 3 The days drift slowly, sun on circling sun, - Dusk upon opaled dusk, : Yet through the flame of noon, the twilight’s . gloom) - r Shé turns not from her loom, - Weaving the strand her loyal heart has. spun. ¢ i Spring leans above the casements of the land And twines a7rose among the myrtle Jeaves, < _Grave autumn’s fingers brush the windless sand ~ And swallows throng the eaves, Yet neither falling leaf, nor budding flower, Nor almond bough has power To draw the shining shuttle from her hand.
The waning years sinkly gently to their doom
Upon the breast of Time’s unfathomed stream, The saffron dawn, the tender lotus bloom
Pass, and are but a dream, Yet, through night’s crescent glow, the petalled spray |,Of amber-throated day, She moves not from the shadow of her loom.
The slow hours ‘kiss, (and trembling draw apart, “And lost days cresf the foam of tidal years, . And tethered s Ss know the age-old smart
Of Sorrow’s shaft ‘that strikes too deep for tears; ¥et, ‘through the chill of shaken autumn leaves.
' And, grieving winds, she weaves The changeless pattern of a faithful heart.- / —F, Robina Monkman.
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Page Thirtyzeight
Toil --
ET up! Get up!” Under the crackling gun
The leaden horses press into the dust Clouding beneath their feet, the crust Of drouth-pent earth heaves above the shares— -But work must be done. The bays are black with sweat Their flanks foani-wet, Angry about their ears .
.Nagging their haggard eyes _ Swarm the.black flies. - -
Slowly the bumping plough wheels turn And sun’s hell fires burn and burn and burn.
The lead team slacks,
The snaking whip-lash bites their matted backs, *For, mile-long acres scorch and crack, the sun Draws all the precious life from fainting earth, Each blazing hour increasing dearth.
Cost what it may in will and blood and sweat Work shall be done—
' They: shall.inot forget
-That I am their god. .
: “it my God be As theirs, Oh! woeful is my day And I should pray - That now the end of my Jong furrow be . Nor wait the dusk that death unharness’ me.
~<“Beresf ord Richards? [uote ~
~
Japanese’ Mood
GRAY SKY and a gray lake—green hills beyond, Seen through the silvery trunks and green leaf-whorls Of cottonwoods, in dreaming, wistful peace, Pinspotted with warm, intermittent rain. ... . Gray sand..... Slow-winging gulls in gray and white. . —_ _ Wet pebbles, freed of dust, glimmer and glow _ Deep red and gray, warm brown and rosy-cream. | Against the brushy banks, wet. autumn flowers Are flecks of topaz, hints of amethyst. .. All gentle-colored things reveal their life And loveliness, under the warm straight rain . That wakes the woodland scents from mould and moss.
Here comes the ‘breeze! The sun’s swift glory flares, .
‘The wet stones glitter, and the cottonwoods—
Festooned with diamonds: Vivid flowers blow, .
And the lake flashes blue to the blue sky.
Even the gulls, just now so quaker clad, -
Gleam as they fly. Bird chatter fills the air; . . oe And children’s laughter, as they run to bathe. a
Beauty, bejewelled in the glorious noon,
’ Flatters this small lake of Saskatchewan!
But I have seen itin a fragrant hour .~
In rare mood for our windblown prairies—still, _ A tranquil symphony of gray and green,
And lovely as a print from old Japan.
—Mrs. N. F. Boves. .
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é. Nirvana
&P I could, be like the clover, ‘ ‘ a4 / Quiet and still; :
. Turning from ‘tearful pleasures, . tt
}
‘ Forgetting my will}: = oe
éy?
eg Folding my “hands together,
' Softly in prayer;
As clover leaves are folded From the night air: so - i
Then I might weavé a poem On silence’s loom,
Delicate, sweeter than honey, ° Or clover bloom— v
If I could sweep me bare -
With God’s great broom.
{*s po —Joan Buckley
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Page Forty . .
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2 Conversation HE: birds are singing ‘liquid sweet. The Winter’s gone and here’s the Spring.
That lark is lilting down the street, His song an ardent, shamgless thing.” “Excuse my inattention, dear,
“The ‘birds, alas, I cannot hear.” “This music is a dreamy trance 4 Of melodies adroitly blended, . But somewhat difficult to dance? To follow what is here intended?” “My awkwardness, the fault, I fear— Music, T find so hard to hear.” .
' “What shades of meaning and allusions Our friend into his’ talk proposes! . How plays with words and light conclusions, . Of argument and wit -disposes!” “So stupid of me not to hear, ‘These clever naan miss my ear.
«“The guns, you see, were very proud To orchestrate war’s dance of death. And through the years still very loud _ With echoes of their mighty breath. So jealous, were they, of the Spring, ; For us, their deaf, no birds must sing.”. ; ct eee!
: ; , Lettie Ann Hill.
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The Old Mine .
IGH on some wilderness hillside you will find -” A caving tunnel with rotten timber lined,
Driven_into the heart of the stony hill
By human-musctes urged by human will;
, Driven by wild expectancy of men it killed.
What hopes lie buried here, what dreams
"Of wealth, to bring long sought for, unknown ease? °
What visions of golden power, what multiple schemes?
_Who were the men who felled and trimmed these. trees?
It is a fitting tomb for all these things,
For the lives as hard as the rocks upon its floor,’
‘For the dreams and desires which are man’s only wings;
Where sweet wild rose and buckthorn hide the door.
~—Norntan Moodie.
a
Canadian Theme a
Soliloquy.
_ Senator Patrick Burns’ Memorial Prize
HAVE seen tall chimneys without smoke, And I have- seen blank windows without blinas, And great: ‘deadtwheels, and motors without minds, And vacant doorways grinning at the joke. I have seen loaded wagons creak and sway Along the roads into the North and East, Each dragged by some great: -eyed and starving * beast To God, knews where, but just away—away.
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And I have heard the wind, awake at nights Like some poor mother left with empty hands, Go whimpering in ‘the silent stubble lands And creeping through bare houses without lights.
wh
” These coniforts only have I for my pain—
The frantic laws of statesmen bowed with: cares -To feed me,.and the slow, pathetic prayers Of Godly men, that somehow it shall rain.
4a —Frederick E.. Laight.
Page Forty-three
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VUE Ras ans i
— 4 "5 ' Alberta Harvest, caw ene LL day we drove between the ripened grain,
Where shadow lay on stook, and stook on- shadow, - With here and there a black field, lying fallow. Thank God for rain.
ee _
This | is our harvest, born of years of pain.
Forgotten is the cutting thrust of hail,
When frustrate harvest, torn beneath its flail, 4 Is turned to! ‘earth again.
Forgotten ‘the cool nights we hold our breath, Because, above the fields, the moon is round, And all the golden harvest in the ground Awaits black death.
And v we “forget grasshoppers, drought,.and rust;
The years of blasted hopes, of. blazing heat, , , rty, fierce cold, and. cruel defeat,
And smothering dust.
Now, all Alberta; has been turned to gold.
The poplar brush beats out its golden light,
And all the sparkling sloughs are burnished bright,
With gold they hold;
oa
Red gold of flax, the tawny gold of wheat, The silver gold of oats, lie on a cloth of gold, Which, far as eye can reach, we see unrolled, Blazing in. Autumn heat.
tae —Flos Jewell 1Pilliams.
f aye Forty-four
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.Mount Assiniboine
PLENDID and cold, Jewelled with snow You are not of kind earth
Where flowers grow.
You saw a vision Of ultimate space; A comet wooed you
With terrible grace.
And now in your loneliness, Haughty and-high “Wordless you wait . For him flashing by.
ag . - . / —Irene Greer,
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Page Forty-five
Trekkers. - on
USED ‘to watch them winding down the road With covered wagon, cattle, all they’d own ‘Trailing behind. Thin horses pulled the load. , Northward they went, leaving for land unknown. © I used to wish that I could go along w--- “On new land, with new folks, my way to make. Most times they drove in. “silence; then, a song Told of young hearts; even Aagilstones. couldn’ t br eak.
_ And mostly they were rae middle—life
After vain years of farming, forced to roam A broken man, some kids, a sad-faced wife Facing the world again, to build a home.
. ’ They'd stop in for a drink, —to ask the. “way, And Ma would pester them with questions kind.
. “Tt doesn’t matter where we go,” they'd say, “It can’t be worse than. what we've left behind.”
They.told of years of pests, weeds, hail and dust,
_ And years of waiting for reluctant rain. One wagon read, “PEACE RIVER NOW OR BUST” And young lads waved to me, and smiled again. They saw a shy-faced youngster through the wire Watch, wistful-eyed, their shabby caravan, Dead sick of lean years, too,—and ‘heart afire To climb up there, beside that. driving man.
Often we’d stand and watch them out ‘of sight, And Dad would say, “Perhaps, another year, | If rain don’t come and prospects look more. bright, . We’ll have to be a-pullin’ out of here.” Pog e ‘And Ma, still watching them, would wipe her .% eye’ <3 ge °(O’er distant hills the clumsy wagon rolled) fe _ “When folks get old, they like at home to die; . ~ Poor souls!” she’d whisper low to me, “Poor souls!”
—L. Lewis:
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