Febuary 1914

Bloodybush Edge

par Wilfrid Wilson Gibson

Bloodybush Edge is a remote spot on the border-line between England and Scotland, marked by a dumpy obelisk, on which is inscribed an old scale of tolls. A rough sandy road runs down across the dark moors, into England on the one hand, and into Scotland on the other. It is a fine, starry night in early September. Daft Dick, a fantastic figure, in appearance half-gamekeeper, halftramp {dressed as he is in cast-off clothes of country-gentlemen) swings up the road from the Scottish side, singing.

Sonnet

par Rupert Brooke

Not with vain tears, when we're beyond the sun, Well beat on the substantial doors, nor tread Those dusty high-roads of the aimless dead Plaintive for Earth; but rather turn and run

A memory

par Rupert Brooke

Somewhile before the dawn I rose, and stept Softly along the dim way to your room, And found you sleeping in the quiet gloom, And holiness about you as you slept.

One Day

par Rupert Brooke

To-day I have been happy. All the day I held the memory of you, and wove Its laughter with the dancing light o' the spray, And sowed the sky with tiny clouds of love, And sent you following the white waves of sea, And crowned your head with fancies, nothing worth, Stray buds from that old dust of misery, Being glad with a new foolish quiet mirth.

Mutuability

par Rupert Brooke

They say there's a high windless world and strange, Out of the wash of days and temporal tide, Where Faith and Good, Wisdom and Truth abide, Aeterna corpora, subject to no change.

The olympians

par Lascelles Abercrombie

It is in Crete, a many years ago : Under a peak that strained in icy stone To thrust an endless gesture at the stars.

The poet to his mistress

par John Drinkwater

If I should take Less thought of gentleness For your dear sake Than for the poignant labours that possess My blood, then surely by so much were signed My shame and loss in the world's recording mind.

Memory

par John Drinkwater

One told me in the stress of days Of ease that memory should bring, And so I feared my trodden ways For snares against my labouring.