My love to me is cold,
And no more seeks my gaze; I wonder why!
The smile of welcome that I loved of old
No longer lights her eye.
One little week ago
I asked no surer guide than Cupid's chart;
I said, "Your eyes reveal the depths below,
And I can read your heart."
She let her shy gaze fall,
And smiling asked, "Is then my face a screed,
My brow an open love-letter, where all
The world my thoughts may read?"
Said I, "The world, I'll vow,
Is blind! Myself alone may see the signs,
And know the message written on your brow:
I read between the lines."
My dear to me is cold;
Gone somewhere is the love-light from her eye;
And, when our ways meet, stately she doth hold
Her course. I wonder why.
* * * * *
"Curiously, the Australian Minister of Defence in the last
Parliament bore the same name as the Prime Minister in that
which has just been dissolved."
_Westminster Gazette._
A similar curious coincidence happened in England, the War Minister in
the last Parliament bearing the same name as the present Lord
Chancellor.
* * * * *
"MEN FOR THE ANTARCTIC.