April 1914

The end of the world

par Lascelles Abercrombie

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

Love’s house

par John Drinkwater

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.

Heaven

par Rupert Brooke

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 !

A catch for singing

par Wilfrid Wilson Gibson

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 ! "

The tram

par Wilfrid Wilson Gibson

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

The greeting

par Wilfrid Wilson Gibson

" 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 ?

The Ice

par Wilfrid Wilson Gibson

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.

The gorse

par Wilfrid Wilson Gibson

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,