BALLADE OF CAUTION

You that climb the trails of air
Far above the ranges dim
Toward the starry pastures, where,
Wonder-eyed, the cherubim.
Watch your sunlit chariot swim,
Tracing spirals involute

Clear to Heaven's crystal rim—
Don't forget the parachute!

Icarus, the books declare,

Full of youthful fire and vim, Soared too high with little care; Down he fell, the stripling slim. Blue Ægean's azure brim

Hides his beauty, cold and mute.

Shun the fate that conquered him—

Don't forget the parachute!

Oh, the vaunting souls that dare
Heights to daunt the seraphim!
Oh, their fall to black Despair!
Oh, the issue, bleak and grim!
Though your wings be staunch and trim,

Strong your heart for high pursuit,
Still, for love of life and limb,
Don't forget the parachute!

ENVOI

Prince (a time-worn pseudonym
Dear to bards of good repute),
Be your flight of zeal or whim,
Don't forget the parachute!

Arthur Guiterman

STORY OF THE FLOWERY KINGDOM

Fair Sou-Chong-Tee, by a shimmering brook Where ghost-like lilies loomed tall and straight, Met young Too-Hi, in a moonlit nook, Where they cooed and kissed till the hour was late: Then, with lanterns, a mandarin passed in state, Named Hoo-Hung-Hoo of the Golden Band, Who had wooed the maiden to be his mateFor these things occur in the Flowery Land.

Now, Hoo-Hung-Hoo had written a book,
In seven volumes to celebrate

The death of the Emperor's thirteenth cook:
So, being a person whose power was great,
He ordered a Herald to indicate

He would blind Too-Hi with a red-hot brand
And marry Sou-Chong at a quarter-past eight,—
For these things occur in the Flowery Land.

And the brand was hot, and the lovers shook
In their several shoes, when by lucky fate
A Dragon came, with his tail in a crook,
A Dragon out of a Nankeen Plate,-
And gobbled the hard-hearted potentate
And all of his servants, and snorted, and
Passed on at a super-cyclonic rate,—
For these things occur in the Flowery Land.

The lovers were wed at an early date, And lived for the future, I understand, In one continuous tête à tête,

For these things occur. . . in the Flowery Land.

James Branch Cabell

BALLAD: BEFORE MY BOOKSHELVES

Now that the swallow again we see,

Now daisy-burthened is every mead
And burthened the air with bird-minstrelsy-
What book shall I take in my nook to read?
Will a huge folio serve my need
From yonder musty and slumberous row?
All the May-morn on him shall I feed-
Or the rose-bright tales of Boccaccio?

Stay! if I took him, asleep should I be
In a moment, and even the birds would speed
To their nests, quick-stinting their melody

As though, all-timeless, dark night were freed.
Pass on! Yon history! Do you plead

For a hearing? Mighty of voice, I trow!

Shall I thrive on some old-world blood-bright deed, Or the rose-bright tales of Boccaccio?

The sweet heaven-showers for the daisied lea
Are better than showers from heroes that bleed;
And the shriek of the clarion would slay the glee
Of the birds that love but the shepherd's reed—
Ah! and the lute of the singer! Have heed!
Here are the poets, with leaves that glow
Lovelier than lindens': take this, indeed?.
Or the rose-bright tales of Boccaccio!

ENVOI

Birds, I am coming. Do you proceed
With your lyrics; a lovelier song I know.

Look, here is a Swinburne, and here-base greed!

Are the rose-bright tales of Boccaccio!

Nelson Rich Tyerman

WITH FITZGERALD'S "OMAR KHAYYAM”

Eight centuries unheeded by the West!

Now loved within our hearts; whose daily strait Is still to war with wavering unrest,

To ask in vain, for aye importunate,

The ceaseless "WHY?" whereof we ever wait The answering "BECAUSE," which ringing true. Would solve the mystery of Life and Fate. Omar! the peace you sought we find in you.

The fabled Paradise wherein the blest

Lie lotus-eating, lulled in languorous state, Measured by later reasonable test

Seems but at best a doubtful opiate.

Life is but labour, always to create

New aims to strive for, and new things to do.
Could Heaven itself the stress of life abate?
Omar! the peace you sought we find in you.

Incurious, we cease the hopeless quest,

For nobler he who thus can subjugate
His reckless will, than he with fears opprest,
Who cries amid his doubts, "Alláh is great!"
"Each his own heaven or hell!" why hesitate?
To-day is ours, to-morrow keeps the clue
To the great secret, still inviolate.

Omar! the peace you sought we find in you.

Shall Fate or we cry to Life's game, "check-mate"! Nay, wise men draw it, fools defeat pursue; Unconquered, though unconquering, as we wait. Omar! the peace you sought we find in you.

Gleeson White

BALLADE OF THE CAXTON HEAD

News! Good News! at the old year's end:
Lovers of learning, come buy, come buy!
Now to old Holborn let bookmen wend,
Though the town be grimy, and grim the sky.
News! Good News! is our Christmas cry;
For our feast of reason is richly spread,
And hungry bookmen may turn and try
The famous Sign of the Caxton Head.

Let moralists talk of the lifelong friend;
But books are the safest of friends, say I!
The best of good fellows will oft offend;

But books can never do wrong: for why?
To their lover's ear, and their lover's eye,
They are ever the same as in dear years fled;
And the choicest haunt, till you bid them fly,
The famous Sign of the Caxton Head.

In one true fellowship see them blend!
The delicate pages of Italy;
Foulis and Baskerville, bad to lend;

And the strong black letter of Germany:
Here rare French wonders of beauty lie,

Wrought by the daintiest of hands long dead:

All these are waiting, till you draw nigh
The famous Sign of the Caxton Head.

L'ENVOI

Bookmen! whose pleasures can never die,
While books are written, and books are read:
For the honour of Caxton, pass not by
The famous Sign of the Caxton Head.

Lionel Johnson