THE OCC. POET'S APOLOGIA.
Where the moon's unmitigated crescent,
Sailing through the amethystine deeps,
With a smile sardonic and senescent
Down upon our Armageddon peeps;
Thither, drawn by sympathy ecstatic,
Like a shooting star my spirit flies
From the company of gross, lymphatic
Souls entangled by terrestrial ties.
Where the sombre azimuths are booming,
Flecked with argent elemental foam,
And the stately colocynths are blooming
In a salicylic monochrome;
There, transported on pellucid pinions,
Sick of common sense I seek repose,
Far from the disconsolate dominions
Tainted by the tyranny of prose.
O'er the whole translunar gamut ranging.
There my astral body slides and skims,
Choriambic melodies exchanging
With the apolaustic cherubims;
Weaving in a polyphonic pattern
Harmonies that mock at clefs and bars;
Toying with the shining rings of Saturn,
Throwing star-dust in the eyes of Mars.
There, suspended in a sumptuous limbo,
Like a happier version of the boy
Drawn by Mr. Blackwood in his Jimbo,
I shall taste of bliss without alloy;
Other minstrels may indulge in fighting,
I myself cannot so far forget
As to shun the raptures of inditing
Occ. verse for the Bestspinster Gazette.
For our "Glimpses of the Obvious":
"An interesting feature in the prone trees was that they all fell in one direction, showing the direction from which the blast came."
Morning Paper.
"So soft and loose was the earth that the trench walls had to be rivetted."
Daily Sketch.
A very curious treatment. Personally we always use a safety-pin.
"Inquiries are being received at Lloyds for insurance to pay total loss in case of peace being declared during the present war."
Montreal Gazette.
We ourselves should take our chance of this contingency.
"The total import value of matches is less than £1,000,000 per annum, and if £2,000,000 is to be collected, it will make matches 6d. or even more per dozen."—Daily Chronicle.
Mr. McKenna surely cannot have realized this.