Time poems
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To the Canadian Poets, 1940
© Souster Raymond
Come, my little eunuchs, my tender virgins,it's high time you were home and in bed.The wind's cold and strong in the streets now,and it's almost ten o'clock.
Gwen
© Souster Raymond
At the poetry readingin Croft House, she wrote downher phone-number on a piece of paper,said, give me a call some time.
Here Lies Poor Nick
© Smith Sydney
Here lies poor Nick, an honest creature,Of faithful, gentle, courteous nature;A parlour pet unspoil'd by favour,A pattern of good dog behaviour
Humouresque
© Arthur James Marshall Smith
HeHad alwaysBeen a lucky one:The girl he lovedRefused him, so he alwaysKept her fresh-eyed beautySafe from ravagings of Time,And lived with her in one closeCorner of his brain, and kissed her lips,And pale white hands, and dreamy hair
Ballade un peu banale
© Arthur James Marshall Smith
The bellow of good Master Bull Astoundeth gentil CowThat standeth in the meadow cool Where cuckoo singeth now.
The Archer
© Arthur James Marshall Smith
Bend back thy bow, O Archer, till the stringIs level with thine ear, thy body taut,Its nature art, thyself thy statue wroughtOf marble blood, thy weapon the poised wingOf coiled and aquiline Fate
The Sniper
© Skeyhill Tom
I've seen the champions of the land, Shootin' out at Bisley,The Canadian back-woodsman Slay the roarin' Grizzly;I've seen the Monte Carlo sport Baggin' pigeons by the score,The crack shot on the stage, too, With his thousand tricks or more
Shrapnel
© Skeyhill Tom
I was sittin' in me dug-out, An' was feelin' dinkum good,Chewin' Queensland bully beef, An' biscuits 'ard as wood
The Wish of the Weary Woman
© Sigourney Lydia Huntley
A form there was, still spared by timeTill the slow century fill'd its prime;Stretch'd on its bed, with half-closed eyeIt mark'd uncertain shades flit by;Nor scarce the varied world of soundTo the seal'd ear admittance found;While the worn brow, in wrinkles dark,Seem'd like the gnarl'd oak's roughen'd bark
