Front Cover
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 Index of first lines

Title: Kyk-over-Al
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00080046/00012
 Material Information
Title: Kyk-over-Al
Uniform Title: Bim
Alternate Title: Kyk over Al
Physical Description: v. : ; 23 cm.
Language: English
Creator: British Guiana Writers' Association
Kykoveral (Guyana)
Publisher: s.n.
Place of Publication: Georgetown Guyana
Publication Date: -2000
Frequency: two no. a year
Subject: Guyanese literature -- Periodicals   ( lcsh )
Caribbean literature (English) -- Periodicals   ( lcsh )
Genre: review   ( marcgt )
periodical   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: Guyana
Dates or Sequential Designation: Began in 1945?
Dates or Sequential Designation: -49/50 (June 2000).
Numbering Peculiarities: Publication suspended, 19 -1983.
Issuing Body: Issued by: British Guiana Writers' Association, 1945-19 ; Kykoveral, 1985-
General Note: Vol. for Apr. 1986 called also golden edition that includes anthology of selections from nos. 1-28 (1945-1961).
General Note: Description based on: No. 30 (Dec. 1984); title from cover.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00080046
Volume ID: VID00012
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: oclc - 12755014
lccn - 86649830
issn - 1012-5094

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover
        Advertising 1
        Advertising 2
        Advertising 3
        Advertising 4
        Advertising 5
        Advertising 6
        Advertising 7
        Advertising 8
        Advertising 9
        Advertising 10
        Page 56
    Title Page
        Page 57
    Table of Contents
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
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        Page 85
        Page 86
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        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
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        Page 125
        Page 126
        Page 127
        Page 128
        Page 129
        Page 130
        Page 131
    Index of first lines
        Page 132
        Page 133
        Page 134
        Page 135
        Page 136
        Page 137
        Page 138
        Page 139
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Full Text
Year-End, 1954

OVer -
: At

Special Issue

OF -

Edited by A. J. SEYMOUR.

?LI .I

Try this test and see!

Watch each member of your family read the Guiana
Graphic. You may be surprised. For you'll find
Junior scanning general news as well as comics,
your wife reading sports as well as the women's
page, and you may turn to the gossip column. Yes,
there's lots of ''cross over" reading in every
family, and this means planning and editing your
Guiana Graphic to please everyone. Every story, on
Page 12 as well as page one, must be easily
understood, accurate and interesting. The Guiana
Graphic knows this. That's why it's the paper
that is written to be under-
l ke te stood by everybody.


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Edited by

Georgetown, British Guiana, 1954.


Edited by
Vol. 6. No. 19 .. Year-End, 1954.
48 Cents

Daybreak ... 37
Song of Guiana's Children .. ...
Von Hoogenheim .. .. .. 4
The Traveller's Palm .. 3
The Cities .. .. 107
Manarabisi .. 21
Barakara .. .. .. 22
New Day .. .. ... 3
For My Son .. .. .. .. 99
Fragment of Memory .... 5
Listening to the Land 6
Albion Wilds .. .18
We waited for the Dawn 34
Kaietuk .. .. .. .. 23
Roraima .... .. .. 19
Come raise your voices .. .. 109
The Kiskadee .. .. .. 46
The River Demerara .. .. 12
Obituary of a Bum .. .. 32
Day of Delight .. 39
Alphecca ... 71
Satan's Serenade .. .. 104
Flowers for You .. .. 72
Meditation .. .. 95
Man know Thyself .. .. .. 96
I affirm God's presence is here .... 97
Poem .. .. .. 59
Poem .. .. ... 65
The River in October .. .. .. 50 ,
Mineena .. .. .. 16
Lulu Water .. .. .. .. 78
Elise .. .. .. 62

Helle .. .. .. ... 77
Symbols .... 105
Villanelle .. ... 53
Parchment and Quill .. .. .. .. .. 103
To a Dead Silk Cotton Tree .. .... 14
Twilight .. ... 52
Luna .. .. .. .. .. 58
I sat in the land of poets .. .. 92
Tell me Trees .. .. 42
These are the words of an old man .. .. 84
The Chorus .... .... .. 106
Savanah Lands .. .. .. .. 20
The Peasants .. .. .. 82
And so the Tears .... ..44
Hindsight of England .108
Kaieteur .. .. .. .. 24
Oriens Ex Oceidente Lux .101
Anticipatory .. .. .. .. 100
Morning .......... 36
From Meditation, Thoughts in the Silence 81
Kaieteur .. .. ... 25
Futility 80
O Beautiful Guiana .. ... 1
Twilight .. .... .. 51
The Swallow .. .. .... .. 49
Themes of Song ... 33
I can no longer hide .. .. .. 64
My Darling .... .. .. .... 63
National Anthem .... .. 110
In the Night .... . .... 74
Poem .. .. .. .... 73
Night's Kiss .... .. 60
The Virgin .. .. ... .. 83
October Seventh .. ... 76
Meditations of a man slightly drunk .. .. .... 30
Moonlight at Apoteri .... .... 17
S I do not know .. .. ... .. .. 28
Old Seawall
Victoria Regia .. ..
Guianese Garden .....11
Lips . .. 70
The Leaky House .. ... .. .. 31
The Stars .. .... .. .. 56
The Weeding Gang .. .. .. .... 29

R.EIS, E. H.
I told my heart .. .... .. 61
Gladness and sorrow, laughter and tears .... 90
Welcome April .. .. 38 ,
On the sands of Leguan .. .. 15
Telephone .. .. ..... 102
A Tropical Morn .. .... .... 35
Kiskadee .. ... 47 i
The Legend of Kaieteur .. ... 27
Name Poem .... .. ..
There runs a dream .... .. 2
Buttercup ..... 41
Carrion Crows .. .... 45
The Sea Gull .. .. .. .. 48 "
The City of Sin .. .... .. .. 91
Poem .. 89
Night's Descent .. ... 54
Poem .. .. .. .. 75
Arabesque .... . ..... 79
Maybe .... .. .. 94
Waves .. ... ..... .... 40
Strange .. ...... 93
To Marian .. .. .. .. 68
Cave Cano .... .... ... .. .. 69
To a Star .. .. .. 55
Music in the Dark .. .. .. .. 98
Essequibo .... ... .. .. .. .13
A Dream .. .. .. .. .. 66
My Jewel . ..... 67
The Tide of Time ... .. .. 88
The Hidden Ocean .. .. ...... 86
Life's Mountain .. .. .. .. 87
Will .. .. ... 85
Kaietuk .. .. .. .. 26
Star of Eve .. ........ 57

Contributions and all letters should be sent to the Editor "Kyk-
Over-Al", 23, North Road, Bourda, Georgetown, British Guiana.


Anyone who compiles an Anthology of Verse must desire to
bring to the notice of his readers the best that has been written
in the particular field covered by the Anthology. He will, of
course, know that his selection is conditioned by his own prefer-
ences and judgment, and by the quality of the material which
comes under his survey.
When the Anthology is one of Guianese Verse, the Editor must
also ask himself to what degree does the selection help to build a
feeling of national pride and to chronicle the achievements of the
people of the country. All these, however, are questions that he
keeps at the back of his mind as he goes from poem to poem
noting the qualities of each and how the personalities of the writ-
ers express themselves in various modes.
Of course a Guianese Anthology can be based on poets. One
could say that we wanted to show the excellence of the works of
Guianese poets, and arrange the collection so to emphasize the
various aspects of their development and the range of their imagi-
nation. But it seemed better to the Editor to base this Anthology
on the country in which we live and to compile an Anthology
of Guiana, to select poems which show the imaginations and skill
of poets after they have reacted to this country's sights and sounds.
The mathematicians tell us that the whole is greater than its
parts. Many of us have seen at some time one or other of these
poems but always in a context to which they contributed their
value. It is quite another thing to bring these poems together
within two covers and to let them accumulate their impact upon
the reader into a massive awareness of the traditions and beliefs
we have built and are building in our country.
I can only hope that this Anthology of Guianese Verse will
bring delight, and eventual pride, to the people who read it. After
all is said and done, the poet must write for himself to express
his moods, his impassioned feelings or his elevated thoughts, and
it is only secondarily that he writes for others to see. An aspect
of poetry which is often not considered by critics is that poetry is
an attempt to understand reality, to transcribe truth perceived
in a mood of emotional uplift, and to push back the barriers of
one's own consciousness. It may be that at the same time one is
rediscovering regions of truth not yet inhabited by one's friends
or by one's own people, and in British Guiana as a community we
need all opportunities to find our own leaders of thought and
people who have spiritual and mental insight.
It was in the 1930's that Mr. N. E. Cameron returned from
Cambridge University to complete a lack that he had found in his
own knowledge. Fellow scholars had asked him about the writ-
ings of his own country so Mr. Cameron took upon himself the
difficult task of turning up the old files available and compiling
the best, in his judgment, of poems written in British Guiana be-
tween 1831 and 1931, published as "Guianese Poetry (covering
the Hundred Years Period 1831-1931)".

He shows us for instance Mr. Oliver, school-master at Buxton,
writing on the occasion of the Emanicipation of Slavery and pro-
ducing verse which is of interest to the sociologist more than to the
critic, but one does have the beginnings there of joy at the freedom
of the people. "Colonist" writing in 1832 brings to bear upon his
subject a kind of Words worthian love of nature ,but he is not suf-
ficiently .a part of the Guianese scene to express its sights and
sounds. When we come to Mr. Thomas Don in the 1870's, the
piety is there but not the poetry. It is with Leo (Egbert Martin)
and Lawrence that we move into the creative tradition of Guian-
ese verse and it is only in the last 20 years that we have all kinds
of singing birds in contrast to the silence and desert of the years
between 1840 and 1930. Be that as it may, Mr. Cameron has
laid us all under his debt.

After Mr. Cameron's Anthology the only attempt at a com-
pilation of a Guianese character has been the Fourteen Guianese
Poems for Children selected by the Students of the Government
Training College for Teachers in 1953. This collection again lays
stress on rhythm and simple understanding and the diversity of
the Guiana scene, and attempts to make us proud of our Guiana.

I hope that anyone who wants to refresh his memory of some
cherished poem written by a Guianese will be able to find it in
these pages and that these poems will express the personalities
of Guianese as well as provide emotional photographs of sights
and sounds in this country. For instance, I am glad that we will
be able to preserve some of the poems of Peter Ruhomon because
anyone who has enjoyed his friendship, as I have on a junior
plane, will be glad to have his personality laid up in amber in his
poems. Peter Ruhomon belongs to a vanishing age of the elderly
gentlemen with cultivated personalities who walked the ways of
Guiana, and at the same time their work provides a foundation
on which to base the advance achieved by younger writers from
the Victorian echoes of those days. Here is a rich diversity
which will in time create the foundation of a Guianese way of
life. It is the hope of the Editor that this collection will help to
shape the mentality of this generation in its thought and its
memory, so far as a collection of verse can, that it will supply
them with memorable words for their own speech and be a kind
of measuring rod against which they can try their future poems.
The Bible and Shakespeare were the Pillars of Hercules through
which the writers of England entered upon their heritage at the
beginning of the 17th century. Similarly, at the beginning of
this new vigorous era in our Guianese life, we need some verse to
provide the platform for advance in the future.

One hope I cherish is that the children of the present and
later generations may look upon this collection, such as it is, as one
of the springs from which their spirit of country can be nourished,


The sights and sounds of Guiana are always here for us to see, but
the poet comes with his richer appreciation and his gift of
Swords and he enshrines the beauty in words which enhance
the daily sight. It is one thing to have the Atlantic on
one's doorstep and it is another for Lawrence to exclaim in ecstasy
"The great Atlantic blown into a fury or asleep".. It is one thing
to see the broad savannahs; it is another for Wilson Harris rever-
ently to say "lands that hold in their bosom space like a benedic-
tion". Roraima is a name on a map but Sir Cecil Clementi
Converts it into an "altar table of our God.......whither the Most
High summoneth the soul upward". Kyk-Overal is a strong name
to tie the imagination to a towering peak in time. And
Kaieteur what shall we say of this stupendous fall? Here we
have the natural wonder woven into mythology.
I could multiply the list of names and regions, but I must con-
" tent myself with saying that there are poems written in the Rupu-
nuni by Edwina Melville and in the Pomeroon by Ignatius Glen.
The Demerara and the Essequibo Rivers are celebrated and the
Albion Wilds have their poet. There is the sprightly kiskadee
which Peter Ruhomon calls "the earliest of the feathered throng"
and which Dalzell describes as "maestro of Guiana's minstrelsy";
there are the carrion crows, those "emperors of the sky balancing
gracefully in the wind's drive".

This type of grouping lays less stress (as I said before) on
the personalities of the poets, but I thought it better to lay their
moods in the categories of places rather than present them as
products of one writer. Whatever loss there is to the individual
writers, it has been a gain for the spirit of Guiana which we all
desire to foster.
For the most part the collection consists of poems by Guianese
still alive; but it also includes many poems from Leo (Egbert Mar-
tin) (1862-1890) and Walter MacA. Lawrence (1896-1942), and
it is Lawrence's lovely invitation which greets us at the door.


Acknowledgements are due to the Editors of the following:-
Guianese Poetry (1831-1931); A New Canadian Anthology, Toronto, 1938;
Timehri; Christmas Annual; Christmas Tide; The Daily Chronicle; the
Daily Argosy; the Guiana Graphic; for the use of poems first published
in their pages. The Editor is of course heavily indebted to the poets
whose work is published in this collection,


O Beautiful Guiana

0 beautiful Guiana
O my lovely native land
More dear to me than all the world
Thy sea-washed sun-kissed strand,
Or down upon the borders
Looking down upon the Deep
The great Atlantic blown
Into a fury or asleep
At morn, at noon or better
In the Crimson Sunset's glow
I love thee, O I love thee -


There Runs a Dream

There runs a dream of perished Dutch plantations
in these Guiana rivers to the sea.

Black waters, rustling through the vegetation
That towers and tangles banks, run silently
Over lost stellings where the craft once rode
Easy before trim dwellings in the sun
And fields of indigo would float out broad
To lose the eye right on the horizon.

These rivers know that strong and quiet men
Drove back a jungle, gave Guiana root
Against the shock of circumstance, and then
History moved down river, leaving free
The forest to creep back, foot by quiet foot
And overhang black waters to the sea.


"New Day"

Not hands
like mine
these Carib altars knew:
nameless and quite forgotten are the gods;
and mute,
mute and alone,
their silent people spend


a ring of vacant days,
not like more human years,
as aged and brown their rivers flow away.

yes, pressing on my land,
there is an ocean's flood;
it is a muttering sea,
here, right at my feet
my strangled city lies,
my father's city and my mother's heart:
hoarse groaning tongues,
children without love,
mothers without blood,
all cold as dust nights dim, there is no rest.

mine was a pattern woven by a slave
dull as a dream encompassed in a tomb
now still
are the fields
covered by the floods;
and those rivers roll
over altars gone;
naked, naked loins
throbbing deep with life
rich with birth indeed,
rouse, turning to the sun.
and more fierce rain will come again tonight,
new day must clean, have floods not drowned the fields
killing my rice and stirring up my wrath ?


Von Hoogenheim

The slaves groan; Freedom's domain they must share;
Their tasks wring sweat of blood and no return;
For wrongs untold their hearts with vengeance burn;
But puffed with pride the masters fail to hear.

The slaves rebel. The masters quake with fear;
Those cower most who showed themselves most stern,
And prove what ruled and rulers know or learn -
The kind are bravest, yes, the most austere.

For as a shepherd, when the thunder roars
And fitful flashes cleave the air, sublime
His frightened flock's frail confidence restores;
Or as a builder mutely views his time
And labour lost yet does not sink but soars
To fresher heights so stands Von Hoogenheim,


Fragment of Memory

We have a sea on this shore
Whole waves of foam groan out perpetually.
In the ships coming, in the black slaves dying
in the hot sun burning down -
We bear a mark no shower of tears can shift.
On the bed of the ocean bones alone remain
rolling like pebbles drowned in many years.

From the beginning of ships
there was always someone who wept when sails were lost.

Perhaps the brown Phoenician woman cried
and cried again because a ship went down ...

Or then some Grecian boy with swollen eyes
looked for his father only saw the sea ...

There must be some tale telling of a wife
who bred a son upon the Spanish coast
then died before her sailor husband came ....

From the beginning of ships
the sea was always making misery
water and wave, water and wave again.

On life the ocean stained with memory
where are the ships ?
but none can say today.

The ships are gone and men remain to show
with a strong black skin what course those keels had cut.


"Listening to the Land"

That night when I left you on the bridge
I bent down
Kneeling on my knee
and pressed my ear to listen to the land.

I bent down
listening to the land
but all I heard was tongueless whispering


On my right hand was the sea behind the wall
the sea that has no business in the forest
and I bent down
listening to the land
but all I heard was tongueless whispering.

the old brick chimney barring out the city
the lantern posts like bottles full ot fire
and I bent down
listening to the land
and all I heard was tongueless whispering
as if some buried slave wanted to speak agam,


Name Poem

Beauty about us in the breathe of names
Known to us all, but murmured over softly
Woven to breath of peace

If but a wind blows, all their beauty wakes.

Kwebanna on the Waini-Indian words
And peace asleep within the syllables.
Cabacaburi and the Rupununi
Reverence is guest in that soft hush of names.
For battle music and the roll of drums,
The shock and break of bodies locked in combat
The Tramen Cliff above Imbaimadai

Guiana, Waini are cousin water words........

The Demerary, Desakepe and Courantyne
Flow centuries before strange tongues bewitch
Their beauty into common county names.

Through all the years before the Indians came
Rocks at Tumatumari kept their grace,
And Tukeit, Amatuk and Waratuk
Trained ear and eye for thundering Kaieteur.

And there are mountain tops that take the sun
Jostling shoulders with seaward-eyed Roraima

These Amerindian names hold ancient sway
Beyond the European fingers reaching,
Forever reaching in, but nearer coast

Words born upon Dutch tongues live in our speech
The sentinel that was Kykoveral
Beterverwagting, Vlissengen and Stabroek
And sonorous toll of bells in Vergenoegen

For French remembrance, Le Ressouvenir,
The silent and great tomb of an exile's anguish,
Le Repentir-that city of the dead......

Simple the heritage of English names
Hid in Adventure, Bee Hive, Cove and John,
And Friendship, Better Hope and Land of Canaan.
Garden of Eden and........ so Paradise.

Out west are places blessed by Spanish tongues
Santa Rosa, white chapel on a hill ............

Beauty about us in the breathe of names,
If but a wind blows, all their beauty wakes.


The Song of Guiana's Children

Born in the Land of the Mighty Roraima,
Land of great rivers and far stretching sea;
So like the mountain, the sea and the river
Great wide and deep in our lives would we be.


Onward, upward, may we ever go
Day tby day in strength and beauty grow,
Till at length we each of us may show
What Guiana's sons and daughters can be.

Bcrn in the land of Kaieteur's shining splendour
Land of the palm tree. tne croton and fern,
We would possess all the virtues and graces,
We all the glory of goodness would learn.

Born in the land where men sought El Dorado,
Land of .the diamond and bright shining gold,
We would build up our faith. love and labour,
God's Golden city which never grows old.


The Old Sea Wall

I wish the old sea wall could voice
The stirring tales it knows so well,
Of white sails etched against the sky
And schooners lifting with the swell,
Of Cargoes that were sent to sea
On ships that found their last, long rest;
The wall would know a splintered spar
That caught upon its patient breast.

I wish the old sea wall could tell
Of freighters tha: have travelled far,
And liners that have dragged their keels
Across the Demerara's bar,
Of sun and storm and fisherfolk,
Of wind and rain and flood,
And of the tide that's running now
So red with river blood.


Victoria Regia

I see you resting on a still, dark pool,
Where trees dip down their traceries of lace;
Your snowy petals blush with painted pink
Where dawn first kissed your pale and lovely face.
Your fluted leaves are darkened, straying moons,
That idly float throughout the drowsy day;

But when the first night bird has called his mate,
I know the water sprites come here to play.
They dance upon your great, green water pads,
A dance no mortal eyes have ever seen,
And hail you as their Lady of the Deep,
Lily of Lilies, Her Majesty, The Queen.


Guianese Garden

O deep pink Rose, how gay you are
As I walk by,
Forget-me-nots lie at your feet
Like bits of sky.


The morning glories riot on
A trellis frame,
And loveliness must mean to them
More than a name.

And in the shady spots I find
Things hidden there:
Shy purple bloom that nestle down,
And maidenhair.

Hibiscus wear their trumpet blooms
On a green gown,
And coralita scales the fence
To weave a crown.

Upon the beauty that I have,
God gave to me
The wonder of a living red
Flamboyant tree.


The River Demerara

This river mud-brown runs for winding miles
pregnant with silt she's garnered on her journey
to the crystal sea
moving at first a snail's pace, then with nervous haste
past walls of dense impenetrable green,
past mushroom sites and homesteads wrapped in solitude,
past spacious land ...... deep-bosomed
eager to suckle, nourish, tend the settler
who will dare to chance adoption.
Onward she winds, flanked here and there by hives of industry,
shaking her hips to sure attract the bold .... adventurous
sometimes to doom; for thus she fascinates,
And her silence always, curious minds will try to penetrate.
"What secrets," they all ask her, "are shrouded in your
opaque depths?
"What havoc have you wrought in pandering to conceit?
"What misery brought to countless homes
when swollen full with greed you stole from us our prized
These questions all unanswered go,
for Sphinx-like, imperturbable, serene,
this Guianese Dame, with flirting put behind
smoothes down her skirt and runs quite shamelessly
straight seaward to her husband's open arms.



I saw them there beneath the palms at dawn
Hugging arms full of night;
Half-naked night strip-teasing
In the moonlight slowly passing
With red-rimmed eyes among
Whispering salt-leaved kouridas:
I saw them there upon the sand at dawn.
They looked like music-makers dreaming dreams
In an unearthly sleep.
West Indian lovers living
In a lotus-laden slumber;
With half the moonlit beauty
Dancing around their eyes:
The other half had felt the touch of day.
Sea water lapping round the cuckerit palms
Heard their soft whispers shift
The little purple patches,
Little cloud-etched sentinels
Guarding the night from day -
But their love laughed at time:
They left me gazing still amid the palms.


To a Dead Silk-Cotton Tree

Your little tongues once whispered in the breeze
And sang sweet music in the traveller's ear.
Soft silken parachutes, like swarming bees
Once bore your children from your arms. The air
With gentle fingers planted armies to
Your glory.
Tell me, now that death has shorn
Your tresses, kissed you 'til your giant limbs
Stiffened into spectral resignation,
What are your thoughts? Your strong brown roots still
The waters of the Essequibo: still
Erect you hold your proud and massive trunk.
Death, with his leprous touch, could not destroy
Your noble form. But now your lips are sealed;
No more I hear the music of your voice.....
What are your thoughts, I ask, what are your thoughts?


On the Sands of Leguan

The sun sets on Leguan
As I lie listening to the clear brown waves
Washing-swishing-breaking in creamy foam
On the sands of Leguan.

An undulating foamy line
Creeps slowly up the shelving bank,
Curving around with grace to where
The thin long limbed courida trees
Sway backward from the water's edge
Waving gently, firmly rooted
On the sands of Leguan.

A cooling breeze blows on the river-
Sends water to meet sand.
The rippling river's coldly watching sentinels-
Tall courida trees stand firm
As watery tentacles fan out to close them around
For Essequibo's charging
On the sands of Leguan.

A mist beyond the trees dimly reveals distant islands
Did not the sand before me show light brown?
Light brown one moment darkened in the next-
Then silvered-dampened-overcome outright.
But sun set slowly
On the sands of Leguan.

The courida trees have joined the sea.
A little dark brown breadth is now
What was a light brown broad expanse.
The foamy line breaks not, but presses on and conquers
As the sun sinks in the West.
Now Essequibo reigns supreme
On the sands of Leguan.



A maiden loved me once
She an Indian I, to her thoughts
Of loftier race.
But still love's flooding urge
Moved her to express the chaste emotion of her soul


In the faint hope that I
Her man-god and her star
Might prove responsive to her passion.
One night I stood alone
Upon a hillock's peak.
The moon above, her silvery ghost-radiance around;
Below, the settlement's twinkling lights
And from the caverns of the night
The Boo-too-too's mournful call.
Mineena stole to me, handed a spray of pure white buds
Told in a language strange love's sacred tale
Outpoured her soul in one embracing look
And fled.
I should have followed if I loved the maid
To where she waited in the shadows.
I should have pledged her love
And broke the seal of maidenhood betokened by the buds.
But, the language of her act not understood,
Mineena saw her heart as being unwanted,
Then how the flame of unrequited love did burn her soul.
My work was done,
Around me was the world of Steamer-days:
Woop of the river-boat's whistle,
Swirl of blade and boiling water
Stelling-porters' wild confusion patches, tug and tumble.
Sandy smell of ground provisions,
Whiffs of fried fish, nuts and crushed ice,
Boviander belles, giggling at the mad uproar
Stench of boiler-smoke, crash of landing stage
And city dreams.
Rushing by with gathering speed
In a lonely nook, I saw
A maid, madonna-like
Clasping a spray of pure white blossoms to her breasts.
Misty eyes star-shining with the light of grieving love,
Bare toes seeking solace in the sand;
It was Mineena, weeping and alone.
Horrid scream in midnight dream
Frenzied chase by phantom woman
Fitful gurgling red blood spurting
From the lips mysteriously.
"Oh my darling.
Sl e:-' pvi the Breast that keeps you
Mermaid Lulu Water cannot wake you ever."


Moonlight at Apoteri

The sinking sun proclaims the approach of night,
And queenly Luna, full and fair of face
Seems but to wait the bedding or her lord
Ere she reflects, like to a mirror, the rays
Of his departing splendour. Lower still he sinks
Higher and higher yet she climbs, till now
Surrounded by a million lesser lights
Like to as many twinkling lamps, she rides
Resplendent, beauteous, in the star bedecked dome
Of Heaven. And now has light strange shadows cast
On Apoteri's hill. The cashew trees
Like sentinels on either side the office
Rustle in remonstrance their leaves
With fitful zephyr which disturbs their ease.
The cows, in peaceful quiet, sniff or gaze
At grotesque shadows which their forms have cast.
The while the never ending cud they chew -
In the sheepcote, the bleat of some young lamb
Is heard.

The ribald songs
Of bleeders relaxing in their hammocks, ere they
Depart blend with the noises of the night.
The queen of night, full orb'd her course pursues
Like to some precious ungent, her cold pale light
Pouring on earth and all things which the sun
In his fierce heat has kissed. Out on the river
A belated Indian in his woodskin glides
Hoping around the bend the night with friends
In a cassiree 'spree' to spend.


Albion Wilds

Dear Solitude !
Where peace and concord dwell,
Whose smiling beauties quell
The soul's inquietude.

Under thy shade,
Thy sanctuaries calm.,
My spirit knows no storm;
And fear and tumult fade.


How sweet at morn,
To see high heaven's arch,
Made glorious with the march
Of Phoebus' bright return;

To see the rays
Come peeping through the trees,
And hear sweet symphonies
Ring through the woodland ways 1

In heat of noon,
How sweet it is to lie
'Neaih leafy canopy
And hear the wren's shrill tune

In ripples slide,
Like a small stream that flows
Over a pebbly course
Down from a mountain side!

At eve how sweet
To see the herons home,
And out the young birds come
Their parents glad to greet!

Alas I'll leave
These pictures soon or late
When Death knocks at my gate,
For this should I then grieve ?

I shall not die:
Are not the sky this tree,
Parts of the very "Me".
And the eternal I?

Only this clay
Shall find its former home,
Still shall my essence roam
In Thee to endless day.

I love this grove,
Its birds and flowers and woods,
For o'er these beauties broods
The Omnipresent Love.



Gigantic altar-table of our God
Roraima. Towering heavenward, and set
Foursquare with cliff-walled, awful parapet
Bastioning those majestic heights untrod
Whither the Most High summoneth the soul
Upward through fragments of a shattered world,
Ramparts of ruin that a Titan hurled
To bar the pilgrim-spirit from its goal.

O bid us struggle higher still and higher
Through treacherous jungles, past yon waterfall
Aghast at chasms where death makes foul grimace
Up slippery ledges of the heart's desire
Till in the Holy of Holies at thy call
We meet the God of Glory face to face.


Savannah Lands

Lands open
To sunshine and sky
And to the endless winds
Passing their eternal rounds.
Lands that hold in their bosom
Space like a benediction.
Lands smoky with their dreams
That drift across the world
Like memories of ancient beauty dimly recalled
Lands full of the music of birds
Crying softly a vague and formless meditation
To the measureless skies...... when the listening cattle
Lift their quiet heads
Dreaming their dream, so solitary and wise.



Legend that selling bore was hard as greenheart core
of piles driven into heart of a river:
reapers watched boatmen come and go
till Hanna voices jarred the dust,
and white cranes winged their way complacently


to nests in long savannahs:
green grass pointed legions of sharp blades
like warrior's spears abandoned on pavements
of streets of eternity,
for dark evenings when voices spoke with singing of frogs
and piper owls played throaty melodies
in orchestra of silent trees.
Who parted long night to breach dawn
when life was a cave of green dungeons,
exploded peripheries of light,
while death sailed dreamlessly on a dark river.
Burning eyes peered from window
to watch green galaxies crowding the world,
Islands of grass rooted in moving tides,
tail cocerite palms leaning to gaze at images
in dark pools of sky and water.
The hungry heart leapt from hard selling of life
rippling mirror-still pools of death,
bursting like flower of concentric rings
to wash grim hope on shores of time.
Howler baboons rent morning with roaring,
heralds of memesis feeding on berries from Long John trees.
Life was a blood-stain, crimson like cocks-comb flower
red as wild orchids
and legend remains hard as green-heart core
of piles driven into heart of a river.



Dark the charcoal river flowed ceaselessly
and burnished like red blaze of flower
it bled in sunset
like wounded beast clinging to arms of trees,
to golden-green grass,
to roots invisibly clawing the world for life
on paved streets of eternity.
Wounded the river slept in death
and resurrection was the dawn:
uncloyed appetite of sun fed ruthlessly
on green life of reapers again.
Churchbells rang and echoes beat
like mellowing of fitful breeze against walls of trees.
The living world wore green
garment to spand the poles of heaven,
dark heavens and bright hells
possessed secret hearts
that answered churchbells.



Slow, forest-girt Potaro, half-asleep
And black with brooding on an ominous dream
Sent from the misty mountain-crags that seem
Thy nursing mothers, O awake and leap
And roar in cataract-thunder from the steep
And plunge with foam-flaked, opalescent gleam
Stared at by cliff and cavern, in supreme,
Headlong adventure; Even as thou who keep
Life's tenor calm and cloistered, till amazed
They chance in all men's sight on an abyss
Twixt them and heaven, and on the instant dare
The noble hazard, conquer, and, though dazed,
Yet throb with the incommunicable bliss
Of triumph torn from uttermost despair.



Wonder of the tropics
Silver-sheened Kaieteur,
Pouring from Elysium
Joy forevermore!
Soaring past the shadow
Of inhuman war,
Trailing bright blue heavens
For Truth's guiding Star!
Singing 'midst the tempest
Love's unwearying strain,
Changing sun-kissed rain-drops
Into Love's refrain.
Like a mighty spectrum
Breaking up the light,
In radiance prismatic
Flashing rainbows bright!
Wonder of the tropics
Glory-gemmed Kaieteur,
Pour to realms of glory
Glory evermore.


And falling in splendour sheer down from the height
that should gladden the heart of an eagle to scan, -
That lend to the towering forest beside thee the semblance
of shrubs trimmed and tended by man, -
That viewed from the brink where the vast amber volume
that once was a stream cataracts into thee,
Impart to the foothills surrounding the maelstron beneath
thee that rage as the troublous sea,
The aspect of boulders that border a pool in the scheme of
a rare ornamentalist's plan,
Where, where is the man that before thee is thrilled not-
that scorneth the impulse to humble the knee,
With the scene of they majesty resting upon him, and
conscious of flouting some terrible ban?

Who, who can behold thee, O glorious Kaieteur, let down
as it were from the fathomless blue,
A shimmering veil on the face of the mountain obscuring
its flaws from inquisitive view,
Retouched with the soft, rosy glow of the morning and
freaking the flow of desultory light,
Or bathed in the brilliant translucence of noontide a
mystical mirror resplendently bright.
Or else in the warm sanguine glory of sunset, a curtain of
gold with the crimsoning hue
Of the twilight upon it or drenched in the silvery flood of
the moonlight subliming the night,
And feel not the slumbering spirit awaking to joy in the
infinite greatly anew?


They led him through the forest wild,
The old Macusi, Kai by name;
Along the ancient forest path,
A path where deer and jaguar trod,
Where he too once had crept along
To stalk the labba, long ago.
Past greenheart trees of mighty girth,
Their trunks with moss all covered o'er,
'Neath boughs and branches laden full
With flaming orchids, lovely ,rare,
They led him to Potaro's bank;
Potaro's bank where he must die,
Must die though old a warrior's death,


They placed him in a woodskin frail,
They placed a paddle in his hands,
His hands so thin and frail to see,
And pushed him out upon the stream,
Then said farewell to the old man
Who feeling near Death's cold approach,
Had bade his sons to lead him forth,
To lead him to the river's edge,
And place him in a woodskin bare,
To paddle to him longed-for rest.
No peaceful death did he desire,
Surrounded by his friends and kin
Who sought his restless spirit to soothe,
With chants, and charms, and talismans;
Nay, a warrior's death he choose to die
By braving with courageous heart
The Torrent called Potaro's Fall.
Old was Kai, and weak, and frail;
Upon his stooped frame and small
His wrinkled skin in loose folds hung;
Only his eyes did seem to live,
And shine with an unearthly light
As he upon the stream was borne.
What scenes did pass those orbs before
To make them glitter thus and shine?
Methought he saw back down Life's trail,
Himself a hunter, young and strong,
He felt his muscles tense and taut
As bow he bent in his firm grasp,
He heard the deer give cry, then fall
His arrow deep within its heart.
All this he saw and more beside
As he upon the stream was borne.
The taste was still upon his lips
Of fresh casiri, potent, strong.
He felt again as old men feel
The fiery passions of his love.
Again its raging flames did burn,
And make his feeble heart to race
As it had done once, long ago.
But gone were now those lusty years,
Quite gone the fury of his loins, the taste for drink,
Quite gone to pleasure of the chase,
And only Age remained and Death to come,
Dark Death the Door to no one knows.
Swift ran the current now and strong,
And rumbling booming filled the air.
The dark brown waters sparkling foamed,
Beneath Guiana's tropic sun,
And on sped Kai, a brave old man,
To dare Potaro's mighty leap.


The frail woodskin spun round and round,
The paddle useless in Kai's grasp,
Useless against the boiling surf,
Which bubbled, whirled and raced along.
But still sat Kai, a brave old man,
His glittering eyes now all ablaze,
His nostrils wide, dilated wide,
His bony frame all taut and tense
To brave Potaro's mighty leap.
The blazing sun upon him shone,
The wind was blowing wild his hair,
The roaring sounds tumultuous now
Filled all the aid and filled his heart
As poised upon the brink he was.
One instant poised, and from his lips there broke a cry,
A cry cut short and swallowed up,
As hurled he was right o'er the ledge,
And dashed against the rocks below,
And rose again as mist
Which changed the sunlight pouring down
To myriad-coloured rain bow hues.

Long, long ago this old man lived,
Long, long ago he dared to brave
Potaro's awful, mighty Fall,
But e'en now men who round here dwell.
When night upon the Forest falls,
Hear still, commingled with the roar,
The mighty Torrent's mighty roar,
A cry cut short;
A cry which hurls at Nature's might
The challenge of a fearless Mind.


The Legend of Kaieteur

Now Makonaima, the Great Spirit dwelt
In the huge mountain rock that throbbed and felt
The swift black waters of Potaro's race
Pause on the lip, commit themselves to space
And dive the half mile to the rocks beneath
Black were the rocks with sharp and angry teeth
And on those rocks the eager waters died,
Lost their black body, and up the mountain side,
Above the gorge that seethed and foamed and hissed
Rose resurrected into lovely mist


The rock He lived in towered a half mile high
So that it seemed a rival to the sky
And over it this living mist He drew
To curtain off Divinity from view.
He give it too the privilege to choose
To take the glory of the rainbow's hues
To wear at morning, and for changed delight
The marvellous sunsets of the tropic night.
From day to day, behind this rainbowed screen,
The Father, the inscrutable, unseen,
Would ponder on His Domain of the earth
And all the nations He had given birth.

And He caused flowers to weave upon the ground
Their rich embroideries, and He set them around
The village where each tribe worked all day long
A veritable tapestry of song
From birds that in the branches built their bowers
And spent within the shade quick musical hours.
So every wind blew peace and fortune down
From the sweet heavens, and everywhere was sung
A song of praise to the Great Spirit above
That fathered them in kindliness and love.
And every moon each tribe would come and float
Upon the stream a sacrificial boat
Newlcarved and painted, laden with fish and fruit
And watch it gain speed as it neared and shoot
Over the rock into the gorge below.

And as the waters, so the centuries flow
Until the savage Caribishi came
And put the Patamoona to the flame.
They came by night and took them in their sleep
Slaughtered the guards and drove away the sheep
Ravished the women, burnt their huts and fields,
Despite their warciubs and their wooden shields,
A few, the merest remnant, took to flight
And under shelter of the friendly night
Escaped from the pursuing torches sent
To slay them in the caches where they went.
These took the terrible tidings of the raid
To the far camp their restless kin had made
On the Potaro-that the feud was awake
And counsel what defences they could make.

Old Kaie was chief in counsel. He was wise
Over a hundred seasons had those eyes
Seen in their passage. Time had made them dim
But with its wisdom compensated him
He knew the cures for all men's ills and fears
And he had words for women in their tears


To comfort them. He sat all day and talked
Unto the tribe, for painfully he walked
On legs like rotten trunks wherein chigoes
Had nested and made caves of all his toes.

Just now he counselled, "Since our arms are small
I and another to the mountain wall
Will go to question Makonaima's will
What He requires that we must fulfil
In sacrificial offerings. He is kind
His orders will chase fear out of our mind".
Then someone murmured "But can Kaie's feet stand
The troublesome journey through steep, rocky land?"
Flame sprang to Kaie's eyes, "Will you never learn,
From what the mind wills, body will not turn?"

So the next morning laboured up the slope
Kaie and the one other with their ropes
Strapped round their backs, their bags of magic art
With all the stuff that in their spells had part.
Kaie's feet oft staggered and the westering sun
Was swallowed up by night, the day was done
Before they came upon the slab of stone
That ends the path to the Great Spirit's home.

They stood while the vast starry night was full
Of falling water. Kaie felt his fellow pull
His arm. "Look there", "Yes, Makonaima's birds,
They are His messengers ,they speak his words.
These small black cruiser birds, they fly in flocks
And feed on lana seed among the rocks."
And now the birds made swoopings round the pair
And chattering, brushed Kaie's cheek and kissed his ear.
Twice, thrice, they did this. The with sudden flight
They wheeled and veered off through the seeing Night.

Then in a voice that swelled and sank and broke
With the great wealth of joy he felt, Kaie spoke
"Oh, great is Makonaima and the words
That He has spoken by message of His birds
I must go down the passage of the river
That I may sit before His face for ever
In His great house, the everlasting rock.
And He has promised that no harm, no shock
Shall bruise our people, for His watch and ward
Shall circle us and He shall be our guard.
I am accounted for a sacrifice
For all the tribe. You with your younger eyes
Shall see the offering that you may tell
How boldly Kaie clasped such a death, how well
He lost his life to save his threatened race
And shadow them with the eternal peace".


So in the morning, while the dim mist wreathed
And the fall thundered and the deep gorge seethed
That other sat at vantage by the wall
And scanned the river to the waterfall.
He saw the sun o'er peep the world and throw
Tide after tide of golden ray and glow
Against the fall, flood full on its attire,
Its misty veil, and catch that mist afire.
Amazed, he stared. The opalescent light
Deepened and sank and changed. Then in his sight
Below the point that Kaie had bid him mark
He saw Kaie in a sacrificial bark.

The frail boat bobbed and bucked within the grip
Of the live waters that hurried it to the lip
Over the abyss. Kaie then raised his tail
Huge bulk in the boat and towered over the fall,
A cruciform over the flaming mist
Then with a force that nothing could resist
The boat rent all that misty veil in two,
Drawing a dark line down the rainbow hue.

But of Kaie's body never showed a trace,
He sat with Makonaima before His face.


I Do Not Know

I came to live within the sudden South
Where dawn grows fast, and darkness,
In a moment, is complete;
Where tangled trees drop lianas to the ground
To twist among the tight growth underneath;
And frogs, silent by day, worship
The Night God's marching feet.

I grew to love the tall, plumed palms that wave
Their fronds against the depth of Southern sky,
To know the trades that blow so everlastingly,
And name the blooms that shame mankind's most
brilliant dye.

But I am Northern. The blatant sunshine palls,
The small winds lose their soft allure
And I would roam;
But yet, when I return to have the North,
And her alone, I find I do not know,
Just which is home.

The Weeding Gang

I know the girls are coming,
For I hear the gentle humming
Of choruses they're singing on their way;
I hear their saucepans jingling,
And their cutlasses a-tingling,
Which as their music instruments they play.
They fill the silence after,
With their peals of merry laughter
Which float upon the pinion of the air;
And also ease their walking
Wih some idle silly talking,
With kheesaz* and boojhowalst very queer.
Then once again their singing
They resume, until the ringing
Of their voices mingles with the whistling breeze;
I love to see their faces
With their smiles and subtle graces,
And I love to hear their charming melodies.
Stories t riddles.


Meditations of a Man Slightly Drunk

I came, and they drunkened me lightly
With a medley of liquors.
) There was falernum,
There were literary disagreements,
Poetical dissonances.
Yes, but chiefly there was rum.
They talked to me of stanzas,
The ancient and the very modern.
They broached even painting,
Haggled about form,
Over Epstein concorded with reverence.
Yes, but chiefly there was rum.
We jabbered of pendulums,
Pendulums that swung like my vision.
They gesticulated and bawled -
Ranting about matter,
SEulogizing imagery.
Yes, but never forgetting the rum.
We slashed at Swinburne,
And we justly kicked old Kipling.
We grimaced dreadfully at Pater,
How we hacked poor Donne,
And sniffed at Rupert Brooke!
Though, always, always, mind,
There was the rum !


A Leaky House

Drip drip drip
All night long
This simple song
Kept ringing in my ears -
Drip drip drip.

Drip drip drip -
On the bed,
And on my head
Its dripping music broke
Drip drip drip.

Drip drip drip -
In my soul
Beyond control
The music lingers still
Drip drip drip.


Obituary of a Bum

This lad was born
Of parents poor: the weaker half of which
Did nightly hire out her temple for the next' day's meal;
The stronger: a passion for rebellious liquids and a love
For rolling numbered cubes possessed him whole.
This lad grew up

'Midst sordid squalor, reeking stench and filth,
Cramming his bowels full of salted rice, left over souse,
'Touch mango', anything to ease the gnawing at his entrails
And Keep the lamp of life from burning low.
He swift ran foul

Of vicious tentacles his lowly birth
Had wrapped about him. Was put in storage till his plasma
Paler grew and the dreaded bacilli moved in unhindered.
In brief, he bade a quick farewell to life.
This lad ne'er knew

The thrill of life in full. The beauty rich
Of green fields in the early morn; of breeze and sky and sun.
His fate, but for a fickle fling of Fortune's flaccid finger
Could easily have mapped for him the strong creative .urge.
Instead, he lived a bum.............. he died a bum.


Themes of Song

Splendour of morning, splendour of even, splendour of night.
Splendour of sun and stars, and splendour of all things bright,
Splendour in deepest deep, and splendour in highest height,
These are the themes of song.

Beauty of ocean, beauty of river, beauty of lake,
Beauty that comes in dreams, and the living hues that wake,
Beauty that gleams and glows for the very beautiful's sake;
These are the themes of song.

Music that floods the soul in waves of delicious sound
Music that gushes fresh, spontaneously around,
Music in every voice and murmur of nature found.
These are the themes of song.


We waited for the Dawn

I wailed for the dawn, the lazy dawn,
I, and the tired moon, its face so wan,
I and the stars which never seem to run -
We waited for the dawn.

I waited for the dawn, the coming dawn,
I and the silent-dropping morning dew,
I and the cool, fresh breeze which never tires -
We waited for the dawn.

I waited for the dawn, the lingering dawn,
I and the night's black cloud clock flying,
I and the silver light which greets the sun -
We waited for the dawn.

I waited for the dawn, the greying dawn,
I and the peering birds behind the leaves,
I, and the waking fields which stir with life -
We waited for the dawn.

I waited for the dawn, the fleeing dawn,
I and the world, and the stars, and the moon that's gone
I and the new-born day, which never fails -
We waited for the dawn.


A Tropical Morn

From out the Eastern sky are shot
Bright shafts of golden light,
And lo their magic touch dispels
The shades of ling'ring night

The cool, soft air is redolent,
With smell of fresh-blown flowers,
And sakies, wrens, and kiskadees,
Awake the silent bowers.

The crow now leaves his quiet perch,
High in some stately palm,
And idly floats upon the wing,
Serene, majestic, calm.

Anon, a humming-bird would flit
Across the landscape fair,
And soft the gentle doves would coo,
Within some covert near.

The gaudy-coloured butterflies
Forsake their dark retreat,
And swallows from the eaves emerge,
The sunny morn to greet.

Thick in the flowers, leaves and grass
The glittering dewdrops lie
And Nature in effulgence beams
On earth, on sea, on sky.



The rosy-tinted billows of the skies in glory roll
Across the blue and softly steal away;
The morning's in the heavens and the morning's in my soul:
I woke and found it there today.
A new world's in the making right before my seeing eyes,
And light and colour riot all round -
From yonder blazing sundawn painting pictures in the
To this bejewelled carpet on the ground.


The perils of the night turn to roses
When the dawn comes up,
And the green grass drinks deeply
Of the Heaven's shining cup,
And the Cattle with their keepers
Shake off the misty sleep,
That night, with its stars, throws round them
The earth, and all the waters deep.
I awoke, and all the morning sky
With wassail-clouds and bright vermillion dye
Was filled, and filling to the brim
The ocean rushed upon the sand and in the bay
Full-tide, the emerald that in the waters swim
Dazzled in the sun, and it was day.

38 E. H. REIS
Welcome April

Sunshine and showers,
Butterflies, flowers,
Laughter of children,
The lengthening hours,
Gorgeous colours,
Rich perfumed bowers,
Gay fun and frolic,
The month for lovers.

Sounds so enchanting
From birdies and bees,
Winds softly whistling
In murmuring trees
Time for achievement,
By women and men
Never so resolute
As they may be then.

Bright month of April,
Most welcome indeed,
In your enchantment
We'll surely succeed.

39 L. C. DAVIS
Day of Delight

Day of delight, canst thou come now
And bring the things we love to see ?
Day of delight, with any vow
I'll vow to own and cherish thee.

Come now with the brighter borning
Of a golden-gilded morning
Let the east be filled with gladness,
Drive the sable-visaged sadness
From the little realm where we,
Joying o'er our happy hours,
Play and sing with splendid powers,
Waiting till the sun if flaming,-
Waiting here with hearts unblaming
On the sands besides the sea.

Day of delight, canst thou come now
And bring the things we love to see ?
Day of delight, with any vow
I'll vow to own and cherish thee.

Come now with your brightest smiling
While we lovers sit beguiling
Time bereft if all its sorrows,
Thinking nothing of tomorrows,
Since we wish for nothing more
Than to sit with fond hearts beating,
Watching the se's steeds repeating
Pretty pranks with full manes flying,
Gaily everything defying
Here beside this sand.strewn shore.



Turbulent, pain-racked waves -
Restlessly churning,
Endlessly turning.
Fascinated, I stand atop the wall
And gaze, in unwilling thrall,
At this witches' brew, this hellish cauldron of boiling murk.
Straining at their leashes,
Booming, bellowing,
Screeching, thundering,
Frothing they come to hurl themselves sans heed


At this white wall which will not yield,
Intent on the rape of the land and miles of verdant green.
Nearer and still nearer,
With heart fast beating,
With eyes wide staring,
I go, and the waves call me, beckon me
Down to the thunderous depth of sea
To drown forever the restless throbbings of my own heart.

Turbulent, pain-racked waves -
Restless churning,
Endlessly turning,
With difficulty I wrench my eyes away,
I turn my back on the hypnotic sway
Of that witches' brew, that hellish cauldron of boiling murk.


There are wedding-belled carnations
Always nodding, never tall,
Huge hibiscus set aquiver
Flaming from a live green wall,

Heavy dahlias drooping over
All imperially dyed,
On the grass's light green carpet
Golden daisies, starry-eyed,

But the flower to take my fancy
And to launch my thought on flight
Is the buttercup, that youngster
Leaning out to catch the light.

Tell Me Trees:

What Are You Whispering?

It is strange
Standing here
Beneath the whispering trees
Far away from the haunts of men.
Tell me trees!
What are you whispering?

When I am dead
I shall come and lie
Beneath your fallen leaves.......
But tell me trees',


What are you whispering?
They shall bury me
Beneath your fallen leaves.
My robe shall be
Green, fallen leaves.
My love shall be
Fresh, fallen leaves.
My lips shall kiss
Sweet, fallen leaves.
I and the leaves shall lie together
Never parting
I and the leaves shall always lie together
And know no parting.
It is so strange
Standing here
Beneath the whispering trees!
Tell me, trees!
What are you whispering.

43 N. E. CAMERON -

The Travellei's Palm

Not slender grace here moves our lips
To praise, nor lofty height;
'Tis a pale-green fan with fluttering tips -
A refreshing tropic sight.

Fit emblem of consistency
Worn travellers must have thought her,
For her bosom holds a legacy -
A stream of crystal water.


And so the Tears

The tender wind's thin fingertips
Brushed lovingly o'er the land's lips
And in the airless courts of Heaven
There was a stifled sorrow such
As only angels feel who once knew much
Of the wind's love.

And so the tears, I think, come quickly
Down in the swiftly slanting rain
While the wind wails bleakly
Over swollen-eyed streams wherein
Is raised the rippling murmur
Of an answering sorrow.


Carrion Crows

Yes, I have seen them perched on paling posts--
Brooding with evil eyes upon the road,
Their black wings hooded-and they left these roosts
When I have hissed at them. Away they strode
Clapping their wings in a man's stride, away
Over the fields. And I have seen them feast
On swollen carrion in the broad eye of day,
Pestered by flies, any yet they never ceased.

But I have seen them emperors of the sky,
Balancing gracefully in the wind's drive
With their broad sails just shifting, or again
Throwing huge shadows from the sun's eye
To brush so swiftly over the field's plain,
And winnowing the air like beauty come alive.


The Kiskadee

I saw you once a bit of throbbing life
So downy soft a breeze might blister you,
But as the days engaged themselves in strife
Against invading weeks, the yellow hue
Upon your breast, your coronet of white,
That gorgeous russet brown enshrouding you
'Came symbols eloquent of darkest night
Preceding halcyon days of azure blue.

I see you now adult all inches eight
You wheel and dart across our cloud-swept skies,
Your plaintless cry of Kiskadee but dies
Its chast'ning warmth drives out some heart's black hate.
What power has dedicated you to be
Maestro of Guiana's minstrelsy.


To the Kiskadee

Hail silver-throated, yellow breast,
That would disturb my morning's rest;
High on the tree,
So light and free,
Pour forth your heaven-born melody.

Dear creature of a sunny clime,
From early morning to even time
Your merry song,
In accent strong,
On gentle zephyrs floats along.

Thou earliest of the feathered throng
To greet the morning with thy song,
What flood of joy
Without alloy,
Thou ceaseless pour'st from tree top high!

At noonday heat from silent bower,
Still flows thy song to cheer the hour,
Thou need'st no rest;
Divinely blest,
Can aught your homely joys molest?

At evening when the sun is low,
Still on your rippling notes would flow,
With artless skill,
So sharp and shrill
They seem my very soul to thrill.

How oft I've tried to catch the note,
That seems so merrily to float,
Of Love unfeigned,
Of Joys sustained.
And never-ending peace attained.


The Sea Gull

As I strode upon the shore one day,
A white form fluttered and soared up high;
Her gleaming body caught a last reflecting ray,
Breaking the stillness with a hoarse and startled cry.

O maiden pure and weeping,
O lady of the sea,
Come back to me for keeping,
Come back and stay with me.

In vain my eyes were searching
For the loved one of my mem'ry
While she in stranger perching,
Was pining away for me.
The days went by and I returned each evening,
To the shore where my lost love played,
And with a heart that was sad and grieving,
I wished she had never strayed.

And now the sky is dreadful black,
The sea is tumbling madly;
Lo, the storm has brought my loved one back,
The waves have washed her up before me.


The Swallow

Who would not follow thee, swallow, in flight
On clean, swift wings thro' the opal light,
Away in purple of setting sun,
With a mad, wild joy till the day is done?
Who would not sweep, like a flash, thro' and thro'
The deep, vast void of the liquid blue,
With never a care but to cut the air,
With never a heed but delirious speed,
And a life-a full life that is life indeed.

Who would not soar ever more and more,
Till the great earth seems but a spectre shore?
Who would not be in a sphere like thee,
Of glorious ether, for ever free?
Who would not mount with a swifter speed
Than the eye can follow or thought can heed;
With never a pause save to gently float,
On the sea of air like a drifting boat,
With a soft, full breast and a curving throat,


Past river and lake past the hills of white,
Past the houses' top at a dizzy height,
Past the silent lake thro' whose crystal breast
Thy faint shadow flits like a spiritual guest,
Past the low long lines of the great flat plains
Where eternal silence forever reigns,
So swiftly you fly now low and now high,
In chase with the clouds that lazily fly,
A voyager voyaging joyously.

Who would not follow thee, swallow, in flight,
In the cool, sweet air of the early night?
When each star hung high with its cheerful eye,
Drops golden treasure right gloriously,
And the moon high hung like a censer swung.
Floods a rare light ever fresh and young.
Oh, who would not follow thee, beautiful swallow,
From life and its trials so trying and hollow?
Who would not rise with a happy surprise
Away and away into happier skies?


The River in October

Hey Ho. The East Wind blows
The river dances
Tall trees bow and rustle in a fury of delight
And the plaits; and the skirts
Of the bonnie fisher-girls
Go way-sailing out
In the boist'rous caper of a glad October day.

Hey Ho. The East wind grows
The river prances
Like a herd that frenzies for a mad stampede
Boom. The mad waves tumble
Feel the shy shore tremble
To the Titan's uproar
The majestic song and dance
Of the wild winds and the wild waves
Of a mad October day.

So slow the West Wind moans.
The river chances
On a whisper that beguiles my soul to pray'r.
Hush! The tears of evening
Still the fears of nooning
In the holy dreaming
Of the sad winds and the sad waves
Of a sad October day.



The twilight shuddered into gloom
The trees stood trembling in the air
And flung their green umbrageous arms
Above their wildly floating hair.

While saddened misereres fell
Like organ-peals in full excess
From breezes equal fall and swell
In agonies of bitterness.

The morning aged to older day
Arid burst in shreds of vivid light,
Bestrewing on the lying way
Its carnival of heat and light.

The wind a wondrous "Gloria" rolled
Deep through the cloudy arch of space,
Chord after chord, whose notes of gold
Were smothered in the rhyme of grace.



I dance upon the brink of day
And try to keep the night away.
I stand between the dark and light
And ere the sun dives out of sight
I borrow from his flaming rays
The splendour of a million days.
The rainbow in my hand I hold -
Vermilion, russet, orange, gold!
I strive to light the darkening sky;
The day, I say, it shall not die!
For who has seen the night so gay
He would not change it for the day?
And though I lose th'uneven fight,
I fill the inky sky with light.
But countless eyes at night must play
Where only one had ruled the day!



At sunset when the sunbeams die
Ere daylight fails completely, all
The goddess nymphs go passing by.

Winds whisper low with winds the 'why'
Of Nature, wavelets rise and fall
At sunset when the sunbeams die.

The frog and bee agree to vie
Their voices through day's darkling hall
The goddess-nymphs go passing by.

The bold hibiscus, evening-shy
Wraps up herself within her shawl
At sunset when the sunbeams die.

A withered moon flung westward high
Hypnotic to the Bee's shrill call:
The goddess-nymphs go passing by.

At sunset, when the breezes sigh
For universal Eve's cool thrall
At sunset when the sunbeams die,
The goddess-nymphs go passing by.


Night's Descent

Fleeting clouds race across a pink clad sky
As in the South-East, trees and Towers fade, and seem to die;
On the sea shore where the sea and sky are merged in one,
Both seem to sense the fact that day is done.
Amid chilly breezes white foam sprays upon the coral rocks,
As the curtain from the sky descends, casting shadows on the docks.
In the town the lights are lit, like fairyland, a changing dream,
A flock of birds seeking sanctuary, flit across the sky, their wings agleam.
Soon a landscape is painted, a dazzling scene of flickering light,
Day is done, and the island welcomes in the glorious night.


"To A Star"

Dear lonely, little star untouched by age;
Silent ethereal watcher of the skies,
Steadfast amid the world's unending maze
Like some still witch to stellar lovers' eyes;
How bridal-like across the interspace
Of world and world, your still procession
Seeming to step on time and stay its progress
For just one peaceful hour of inspiration:
That to a poet with a lover's mind
Must make earth seem eternal paradise! ....
What wishful heart accustomed to recline
On lawns of asphodels will not arise
To lie with thee? Dear God! were I a feather
On Cupid's dart tonight I'll mock the ether ..


The Stars

The Stars!
Like fishes in the azure deep they play:
Above the realm and Righteousness of Right,
The base and cowardly Majesty of Might,
Beyond the epicure and anchorite
They shine always.
The Stars!
Like fairy lamps they make a merry dance:
When all the world is wrapt in quiet sleep,
A never ceasing vigil true they keep,
And sing to soothe our souls with music deep -
Our rest enhance.
The Stars!
Like beads of pearls upon a tapestry
Of richest azure hue they shine, Above
Our efforts weak at charity and love,
Beyond our pigmy sense of faith and tove*
They shine on high.
The Stars!
Like leading lights they brighten up life's road;
Dear stars, I yield myself to your control;
O send your fire to burn within my soul;
Make me like you a perfect gem-and whole,
Great stars of God !
Friendship t Archaic


Star of Eve

Star of Eve, wandering companionless
Amidst the naked skiey blue, with pale
Regards you view the mountains, hills and vales
And fields at dusk. Deserted by the rest
Of Heaven's meteors, from out the west
You rise, while later on, by two's or three's
Or as the clustered milky way, all these
Will traverse o'er the heaven's azure breast.
All these and you your twilight course must steer.

Star of Eve, sallow in your pensive brow,
And lonely in high Heaven's crowded heart,
You are like the soul of man, divinely fair,
That wanders o'er this sombre earth e'en now,
And yet of it does share no earthly part.

To Luna

Praise to the gods who moulded from
\ stream of flowing flame, a face
To shine with heavenly brilliance such
As yours: and bathed your head in dew,
And froze your very tears, that now
Your smile with frigid beauty pierce
The gloomy cloak of night, and warm
The icy chambers of a heart!
Queen of the night, supreme you reign
And ride upon the azure plains
In chariots of the whitest foam,
With steeds that paw the vacant air!


In a skirt of gentle breezes
Over a star-strewn span
The queen of Night carouses
With her clan.

She is clad in moonbeams
Her hair is held with stars
Her skin, the tropic night, gleams
With stardust bars.


And through the clouds they sway
On toes with outstretched arms
In ethereal ballet
Of Moonlit charms.

Through the whispering sky
Like a million guitars
The breezes strum and sigh
Upon the stars.

They leave, to cobwebs cleaving
The queen before them flees
Their bodies ever weaving

The wind sighs to the breathless leaves
And round the lotus lilies evereal
Delightful vagrancies.

Night's Kiss

Night kissed earth's lips
In the eastern lanes of light,
Just where the sun's flight
From heaven's air ends
And lends its gaiety to day
Then she blushed into a russet sunset
Of myriad modesties;
Her dark hair of purple clouds
Shifting shrouds of ethered ecstasy,
Falling across her face,
Enthralling her blush into twilight loveliness.

The scouting stars, ever senseful, sleeping
The slumber of the day's obscurity
Sensed the magic of the kiss,
And waking in their silver bliss
Peeped the twinkling peep of piety peering
And saw the amorous earth
Steeped in the nectar of her joy
Dissolving in the delights of darkness
And of night's dreams;
The moon, another lover,
Hurrying slowly, lovely, from the sea
To whisper "Good-night" in her ear, yearning,
And watch her sleep till morning.

61 E. H. BEIS

"I Told My Heart"

I told my heart to be careful
For love is a curious thing
Many an eye has been tearful
From the bitterness it can bring.

My heart replied I am ready
Have measured and counted the cost
A dart thrown with aim true and steady
Can never be counted as lost.

A heart that is pierced by love's arrow
Is a heart that's alive and can feel
Love's sweetness removes every sorrow
Its contentment, a balm that can heal.



Go song and greet her, my lady!
Coax kisses and smiles to her lips -
Sing, warble and croon to my lady
A love song and whisper this.

That I worship, adore her my lady
As a votary kneels at his shrine
Oh! my Goddess my Casseopeia
Take my song and my heart, they are thine.

The orchids that bloom in the moonlight
In their pageant of glory rejoice
And call to the rose and the lily,
"She outshines us in beauty and poise".

Had I that ambrosial apple
I'd have ruthlessly scorned all the pleas
Of Pallas and proud Aphrodite
And elected my soul mate Elise.


My Darling

I saw my darling standing
Beneath the arbour where
A flood of Golden sunlight fell
And bathed her golden hair
And I loved her more that moment
Because she was so fair.
The purple grapes in clusters
Hung tempting from the vine
Their hearts well neigh to bursting
In rivalry of mine
For the joy that burned within me
I could not well define.

She knew my thoughts were of her
They lived upon my face
And gladdened from my eyes that loved
To feed upon her grace,
The gentle outlines of her form
Once and again to trace.
But when she smiled upon me
With all a maiden's pride,
And beckoned with her tiny hand
A welcome to her side
My cup of gladness overflowed
And I was satisfied.


I Can no longer Hide

I can no longer hide the truth
How dear thou art to me
For to my every thought there comes
A gladness born of thee
Ah, ne'er I knew until this hour
How sweet this life might prove
If thou would breathe the sigh that tells
Not all in vain I love, my love
Not all in vain I love.


Thy shaded soulfulness of eyes,
Thy brow as morning clear
Thy simple grace ah, search my heart
And find them hidden there.
No Hindoo guards his sacred charm
With half such sleepless care,
My soul's the casket thou my gem
Fast locked and treasured there, ah there,
Fast locked and treasured there.



When new moon's pallor blushes in the sky
A fragile femininity
The jasmines will pour out their fragrancy
The modest daisy then will close her eye
Then will I breathe your name.

When sunset capes the shoulders of the sea
And heaven hangs her jewels in the sky
And night comes riding up the east to die:
Then will I breathe your name


"A Dream"

The stars in galaxy I see,
A song with Holy tune I hear,
The Moon in envy smiles on me
While Robins perch within my hair!

Now clouds like lilies deck my feet
And fragrant flowers adorn my brow
The air with scents divine and sweet
Is filled to overbrimming now!

What transport this, what ecstasy!?
How am I now surrounded here
With prince Joy and Queen beauty
And blissful mirth that good king dear?

Oh Silent Moon! deny me not
But say what is it I dream of.
Explain, dear moon, but banish not
This stow'way in the land of love.


"My Jewel"

Roses pale in meek surrender
To her beauty sweet and fair;
Lily's rough, while she is tender!
Orchids cannot half compare!
She is softer than the breezes
Fresher than the twilight air!
Who can measure how it pleases
Just to have my Flower near?
Long and flowing curly tresses
Reminding me of things sublime
Soft and willing fond caresses
Hers to give till end of time!
And her heart is for me yearning
So will I contented be
I rejoice, there's no returning
From the sea of ecstasy!


To Marian

Still was my heart as if the sweet of slumber
Had lulled it into silence; congealed its beat;
Enthralled it so that I could remember
How life must feel cut off from this retreat:
And yet felt joy in my captivity!
O soft sweet voice that has this opiate power
To blend my soul with a sublimity;

I hear it still, when some unearthly hour
Creeps in upon my time and makes me feel
Insensate to the things that compass me,
Can time erasing moments dull th'appeal
Of your sweet song, the spheres of harmony?
S. Then my poor soul with earthly cares lies dying,
And my last breath for mem'ry's sake is sighing...


"Cave Cano"

Send me a rose, dear, small and red and sweet
That would not wither with the warmth of kisses,
Nor fold its petalled love beneath the sheet
Of soft green leaves. Send me your long love tresses,
That round my bosom would repeat
The last night's slither of caresses,
The silent urge of gentle presses.

Send me a smile, a tear, or what you will dear;
A little token kissed a thousand times
For mere lip-loving sake. But how I fear!
How my affected heart must augur signs
Of some small something that is near,
Some worm that to the rose inclines
But leaves an aspic trail behind.....



Chalice-shaped alluring lips
Where I take my greedy sips
Nectared drink to slake my burning heart,
Than the beauty of the rose
Which within my garden blows,
Warmer and more delicate your art.

This my only boon of bliss:
Give me but one little kiss,
Grant my lips themselves on you to press;
Force them, force them not away,
Let them but one moment stay,
And enjoy one soothing short caress.

Come my Love, enjoy your fill,
Do not take your lips until
You have drained my lips of Love the Bowl:
Quick, before our Time is spent,
Take me to your heart's content,
Rajah press your lips upon my soul.


The Spirit of Loveliness

Mine was not a bitter rebellious mind
That questioned. I strove but to leave behind
True traces of t' eternal Beauty's plan
Made man'fest in the hopeful heart of man.
"Our Father," I muttered, and would have said
The words some fondly utter till they're dead.
But something strange, strong and terrible seemed
To stop the faithful flow I always deemed
Unquenchable. Words came, but not the same,
It seemed I called upon another name,
And while my pulses quickened, sorely shocked,
I gave out what I might have better blocked.
"Thy good, O God, to us Thou hast not given,
Our Father," I said, "art Thou still in Heaven?"
'Twas balmiest of breezy, moonlit nights,
Such time as suits the ways of sin-free sprites, -
Fair, fleshless phantasms, who, from their high,
Ethereal, trackless places in the sky
Look down on mortal doings, and, at times
E'en favour some in these storm-shaken climes.
I thought of these whose woes upon them crept,
I stared in silence long and then I slept.
In dream she came, wonderfully bright,
Like beauty woven from the best of light,
My inmost being seemed to be afire,
To speak to her was my one strong desire.
"Who art thou," I whispered, "that comest clad
In glory like the stars? Wilt thou make glad
By thy sweet stay this old, imperilled place?
Grant, if thou canst, grant us some of thy grace."
Celestial music from I know not where
Swept over me, such sounds as angels hear
When golden Venus lays her lovely head
On the blest bosom of the Sun. She said:
(The mystic melody of her soft voice
Did more than make my weakened soul rejoice).
"I am Alphecca, who, from my fixed place,
Has kept watch over thee through all the space
Of thy life's perilously passing years
And striven to save thee from the vale of tears,
Wondering sometimes, if my lot would be
To care too much, like mournful Merope,
The lost Pleiad, who, for earth-born love,
Gave all the splendours of the realms above.


And once, speeding with swift and splendid wings,
Came zealous Zaniah, who ever sings
Sweet songs, and pressed her charmed lips to thine,
Saying, "This singer must fore'er be mine."
But her enchanting wiles could not win thee,
For I fostered thy first felicity,
And with many an artful motion drew
To thee the best abiding in the blue
Empyrean. Mine will be a great grief
If thou art led astray by false belief."

She paused: The air was filled with solemn sound
And groans seemed to come from out of the ground.
Forthwith her eyes more keen she fixed on me
And in clear, silver accents thus spoke she:
"Blame not thy Father who has given thee grace,
Pray to see e'en the shadow of His face,
This fair, emblossomed sphere is full of woe
Because mankind has willed it to be so.
Let the unhappy know 'tis their own kind
Who fail to use the beauty of the mind.
Think what the world would be for thee and thine
If some sad day the sun should cease to shine
But God, thy Father, is good; everyday
He wakes thee with the sure unfailing sway
Of heavenly harmony. His breezes give
Source of satiety to all who live
Inheriting the grandeur of the earth.
O that ye knew what ye could earn from birth!
Each man makes his own fate, and drawing on
The winged impulse of his will, has won
His way to good or bad. The Father gives
To all alike, and one gone wrong yet lives
Surrounded by the blessings of light and love
That come to all from one good God above."

Again that sweeter strain of music came,
Again my ardent feelings burned like flame.
Nearer she swept, and, bending over me,
Told in soft, perfumed whispers what could be.
"Somewhere 'cross the sea is a lovely maid,
Whose beautiful vibrating life was made
To harmonize with thine. The only art
That will lead thee to her is a firm heart
Made pure by prayer. I myself will guide thee,
But cannot if thy heedless thoughts wound me."
Golden gleams mixed with glad sounds assailed me,
Then there was darkness left and mystery.

I woke sublimely glad I was not dead,
"Our Father, who art in Heaven," I said.

72 L. C. DAVIS
Flowers for You

I brought these flowers that you with sweet kind smiles
Might tell me thanks and play happily
With their soft petals. I brought them though I be
Moved to feverish feeling, as, with no guiles.

You charm my spirit with unconscious wiles
Bewitching, and fate hath cruelly
Decreed that I must not forever be
Yours, you mine; Yet share with me your smiles.

And you will nothing lose, though I shall gain
Much more than you can guess; for when my heart
Fails me and I can no more bear my pain
My mind's last force will frame you there before me,

And though my senses feel the last keen dart,
I'll see you with my flowers bending o'er me.


Savage moon,
Poignant cry
Of man
For his mate
And woman sultry
With eyes of hate.

Lithe and lonely
Along a wall
Red skirt
Blown about her legs
And long black hair
Falling over shoulders
Bare, and touching
Breasts young and full
Of pulsing life.

Eager, nonchalant,
A dreamer,
Just strolling
Along the wall,
The man would follow.


In the Night

In the night. whispering tender words
Husky with suppressed emotion,
I lie in your arms and wince.
These are not the things I would hear from you
This is not my love,
This is man's lust, speaking
I see your eyes a smouldering sombre flame
I touch your lips, soft yet, with the caress of youth
Chasing the tiny wrinkles and furrows from your brow.
My hair hanging over my forehead wisps by your cheek
And you wince, but not as I.
Hate in the night
Like a naked knife
Clutched in a naked hand,
Hate in the night,
Such as you
Would not understand.



He shall touch God who reaches out and weeps
The poet in the valley, writing his homage,
With still small words upon a mountain side.

Dancers, taking the symphony's power,
Sad bodies making beauty on a stage
While lovers and dreamers and builders of words
Water their hopes with their tears,

Without glory forever are you among men
Who cannot weep -
Unhappy are they among women who love you
For you cannot love

Oh boy with the soulless eyes
In the sunset no ecstasy,
Oh saint with the tearless soul
How soon thy Gethsemane.

October Seventh

In me I am troubled,
For the night is stilled,
This moon a lone, dim globe;
In me I am filled
With unsettling passions
That itch as a woollen robe;
For the night is warm -
Yea, stilled and weird,
And I am troubled.
This night did I see Eugenie,
Eugenie this night was sad,
Yea, troubled,
For the trees did see me a cad,
The trees that were quiet
In this unbreathing night.
Yes, in me I am troubled,
By some hungry want
That stirs in the hollow of me,
And will haunt,
Will haunt me long after
This night with my passion,
This night that is warm and stilled,
Hath been brushed aside,
In my usual fashion,
With a smile and a chuckle -
And my empty laughter


Her eyes are diamond orbs which speak in any tongue
A tale of lust;
Her locks, deft twists of ashen hair,
Fall on her shoulders
Like small serpents hissing guile
And her lush lips are nearly roses tipped with savoury dews;
Though they too sing a little of the song of craft and lust.
Those of the chest
Are mannered, awesome things
Which know their places, though they'd
Heave in tumult in the fleeting bliss
Of one firm, fulsome clasp;
Her hips are rotund,
Carved in fresh, clear lines
Like some great sculptor's Aphrodite.
She should be held with tremulous hands,
Hugged with a gurgling passion,
And smitten with a full and fervent kiss,

"Lulu Water"

Once I loved a woman
She was beautiful and true
Tender and enchanting as a Rose.
Locked in love's sweet slumber horrid dream.
She darted from her pillow with a scream
And the frenzy of her start
Spurred her to impart
The dread unwanted vision of her palpitating heart.
"Gloating snarling eyes of human
Grasping claws of maddened woman
Leaping at me from the ocean
Killing me, Oh, my God."
"Hush, my darling,
Sleep upon the breast that loves you
Mermaid Lulu Water will not catch you ever".
Swimming in the river
Laughing in the water
Like a sylvan nymph at play
Thrilling me with mischief's banter matchless Rose.
And the softly rippling water
Framed her form like angel's daughter
And her eyes like crystals clear
Sparkled merrily and dear
So I stopped to lift and kiss her
When her cry rang out of unsurpassing agony and Fear
"Staring bloody eyes of human
Piercing claws of maddened woman
Stabbing at me from the ocean
Killing me, Oh, my God."
"Hush, my darling.
Peace within the arms that hold you
Peace within the arms that hold you
Mermaid Lulu Water will not catch you ever."
Sleeping by the river
Colder than the water
Like a slab of marble grey
Brows and breats so silent -- fallen Rose.
Oh the sad and sobbing water
Of the agitated river
And the weeping West Wind sought her
E'en the whispering leaflets brought her
"Fare-thee well, oh spotless victim of the sea."



It is very peaceful here
With the white clouds drifting
And the palm trees lifting
Graceful arms to fan the air.

How lovely is the green when seen
With the blue between as the branches lean.
How lovely is the rose that grows
By the stream which flows where the soft wind blows

It is very peaceful here
With the tall grass shaking
And the pond flies making
Silver wing-play everywhere.

You came, and all the sky was flushed,
The day and my heart grew full as you came,
The roses shed their dew and blushed,
As the winds of a new awaking rushed
Through their petals and breathed your name.

I touched the stars,
Reached to magic in a night
All beautiful......
Caught new music and the world
Was still......
Known blue wonders
Floating mauve and gentle silver.

When I hear music
When I see you sleep
There is great beauty in both
And a great longing in me for both
I love music and I love you.
There is music in you
And you are there in music always.

A street of men to swell the ever-swelling tide of blood.
Men in a crowd, wedged in and carried along
With the dull red, dull war song.

Blades in the afternoon
Silver thin blades
Bobbing like hungry tongues overhead
Of the not yet, not yet dead.

Words on the wall Blood in the rain
Men go to murder men again


Cold khaki shoulder
Comfortless and hard. I am a young frail thing
Hungry for the power of a warm arm,
I must be hungry always -
Waiting for the turning and in vain.

A silent listener in this crowded room,
A silent listener with a hungry soul
Waiting now alone and full of pain,
Fighting with your memory again.

In this room am I, and yet not here,
On the red red roadway must I be,
Where the night is full of stars and cool
And you are there to walk with me.

Sealed in that wood-in this cold stone bed sealed,
The graveman moves-the space is closing fast,
And now I die when now the last
Windows of sight are covered for all time.
A great deep emptiness stabs to my heart
As if some vital part of life is gone
For all eternity closed in that tomb with thee.



The flowers are dead on the grave and a sad sight lay;
My token of love, you had thought and your heart had bled <
As you laid them so tenderly there and behold in a day
The flowers are dead.

And as vain your love too long in the heart hid away.
Then, some of it shown in a smile or kind word said
Much more would have meant than tributes you now
would pay -
The flowers are dead.

From Meditation, Thoughts in the Silence

Wrapped in close communion on the psychic borderland,
Dead to life, this little life like tracings in the sand
E'en a spent, receding wave, a child's reluctant hand
Passing o'er once may sweep away.

Life I know is worthy of the best that we can give,
Life I know persisteth, and we only die to live,
Life I know is trending slowly, surely, fugitive,
Seaward from the foaming fringe of Time.

Bulwark's to Decay's relentless, cold encroaching sand,
Stretching down the ages, I can see them, great and grand:
Beating back the darkness with a light it cannot stand
Holding up the Heavens lest they fall!

Gladness, born of such consoling thoughts, within me springs:
Through the burdened Soul, like soothing music, how it sings:
Louder than the deep, sad chords Ambition strikes, it rings:
Man is master still, not Circumstance!

Not the blind or foetal moving in the womb of night,
Or the feeble struggles on and upward to the light,
But the march triumphant of the Ages in their might,
To a poor perfection that I see.

First beside that sacred river where my kindred sprang,
And the tread of dusky millions pushing sunward, rang,
Long before the naked Caledonian learnt and sang
Legends of his heroes, it commenced.

North and East and West it thundered--age on glorious age:
Now the hand of Chaldea writes its bright, illustrious page;
Now the Mede is making History, daring Time to wage
With his pride its immemorial war.

Now the Earth reflects the glory of Iranian sway;
Now Athenian splendour lights a new and better day;
Now it seems the sun must pale its lustre pass away
Where the fretting Tiber ebbs and flows.
Long before the tumult round the turbid Thames had rolled,
Egypt was a scrap-heap Babylon was waxing old;
Iran, Greece and Rome soon followed Time piled on its mould
Making mounds of man's perfected dreams.
Age on age retells the story lords of yesterday
Bow the necks today, then subject peoples hold the sway
Each fresh ruling race still dreams of leading in its day
Upward to perfection all the world.


The Peasants

The people plough the land
but do not owi it
Their children see the land
but do not inherit it.
Labour beneath the ruthless sun broiling and burning
through the skin bears no fruit
but yet it is better to die on rich brown soil than in
the street.
These noble peasants who know the pure and simple life
suffer from this rare knowledge.
and forever kissing the hem of destitution
they live with green fields of rice and pasture
sown with the rich dung of contented beasts.

Like a tree so arched by the wind that its crown would kiss
the grass
so seem the figures of reapers that gently rob the silent
Fortitude in a shattered shirt
when the sun retires and dusk draws her blanket over
the land
They skirt the dams, these pillars of dignity
to homes of peace and hope
and after the rains a breath of wing brings a pungent
scent of steaming earth
and trees give up their fruit
and the harvest is garnered.


The Virgin

I sat one afternoon and watched
A virgin pass,
A virgin, poor lass,
Withering slowly on her Dead Sea shore,
Where the tide of years had lapped before
And left her now to plod,
Alone, alas -


These are the Words of an Old Man
(poem from play)

These are the words of an old man
To his children and his people.
Stand up slowly
To your full height
O man going home
And reflect that you are homeless.
For you go home to dwell in want
And insufficiency.
You go home to continue a grotesque pantomime,
Reflect .......... ..... there is more dignity
In being homeless tonight.
Stand up slowly
And think how tall you are.
Think how your hands are capable
To build a temple.
Think how you are wise and gentle.
O man going home from the fields
With the memory of the burning sun
In your mind,
Think how dumb you are:
Think what a travesty of civilisation
You uphold
Without a thought of revolution
To nourish your inarticulate heart.
Think O man
Going home
It is better to be homeless tonight.


Man of iron will possessed
From the deepest rut can rise
From the hill's foot to its crest
From the abyss to the skies.

Will's the architect of Fate
Nought can check determined man;
Will can make a beggar great,
Place him with the honoured clan.

Will is like the mighty sea,
Batt'ring at the stubborn dykes,
Halted briefly may it be;
Then it wanders where it likes.

On the dauntless wings of Will
Man can soar to heights of Fame
Richest walls of Glory drill,
On Time's tablet carve his name.

Will is like a shooting star
Blazing through the blackened sky.
Nothing can its progress bar.
Shadows 'fore its brilliance fly.

Will can conquer any foe,
Bend and snap the stoutest bars,
Make success from effort flow,
Station man among the stars.


The Hidden Ocean

Soul is like a hidden ocean
Flowing neathh the grosser being,
Brain reflects the complex motion
On this subterranean stream.

Thoughts and images are passkeys,
Bringing us a fleeting peep
Of the web of intricacies
Fashioned on the fretted deep.

Feeling is a living mirror
Held against the fickle foam,
On the ferment lays the pillar
Of its photographic home.

Melancholy and elation,
Turmoil and tranquillity
Build their transient foundation
On the humours of this sea.

Soul is like a hidden ocean
Deep, and strange, and fathomless,
Subtle source of all emotion,
God of pain and happiness.

Soul is link and tributary
Of a vast and endless main,
Medium, vassal, emissary
Of a universal brain.

Soul is like a hidden ocean
Pulsing neathh the human sod.
Acting like a magic potion,
Making man a branch of God.



Life's Mountain

A climber brave with dogged step
Up, up a jagged mountain crept,
His foot on treach'rous boulders slipped
But as he hurtled down he gripped
A rock which broke his fall.
A footing safe he gained once more,
Pushed on as bravely as before,
Slipped, fell again, but still rose up
And struggled upwards to the top,
Undaunted, 'spite of all.

If like that doughty mountaineer
You scale life's mountain without fear,
If when with obstacles you meet
And all your efforts spell defeat
You still keep climbing up,
If when on unsafe ground you slip
The Rock of Hope you firmly grip
And rise up once again still bent
On winning heights magnificent,
You'll gain the mountain-top.


The Tide of Time

The waves roll on across the shores of time,
And every foaming step's a moment spent.
We cannot build a dyke to curb their climb,
They tumble on, unhindered in their bent.
There is no halting point, no rude retreat,
Nor fears nor pleadings can resist the surge,
The past is coffined sand grain at their feet
And answers to no resurrecting urge.
The waves roll on, relentless in their crawl,
And soon beneath their shadow we must sleep;
Let's build our castles ere the breakers fall.
A fool's remorse cannot roll back the deep.



My faith is stronger than circumstance,
There's no condition to bind.
I use my patience and work my hand,
Behind it all is my mind.

My faith is stronger than four score men,
My hopes are bright as the sun.
I labour away at the task each day,
And each job I have well done.

90 E. H. REIS


Gladness and sorrow, laughter and tears,
The thrill of triumph, the haunting of fears;
The bliss of love, the anguish of pain,
The sadness of loss and the joy of gain.

The greed of the miser, the prayers of the saint,
The power of reason to foster restraint;
Or sudden disaster, so often the test
Of man at his worst or maybe his best.

As clay moulded in the potter's hand,
So seldom do mortals understand
The good that surrounds them, the love and the hate,
The purpose of life, or the workings of fate.

Conflicting emotions struggling to rule
Teach well the lesson that life is a school;
That effort and discipline nothing can stop
From achieving victory; from reaching the top.

The City of Sin

Somewhere amid a vast and arid land,
Stretches an endless line of fleshless bone;
Where the heat shimmers on the yellow sand,
And the wind re-echoes with a wailing moan,
A tattered city stands.

Every where once painted walls gape sadly,
At the cracked and sunken path,
And thin and spiry towers cluster madly,
Seeking refuge from an Avenger's wrath.
Sacked by immortal hands.

No longer does the sun-god's temple be,
Where crime once hung upon its Samite walls,
No longer is there worship, a false heraldry,
Within its glittering and jewelled halls.
Grim in death-grey garlands.

And there upon the crumbling altar pyre,
Where trembling pagan victims bound were led,
And there their sinful bodies ate by fire,
Written in Blood City of Sin it read.

I Sat in the Land of Poets

I sat in the land of poets
Somewhere beyond the skies
And beheld the roses blooming
In splendour with the wise.
And looked in the realm of wonders
And saw great mysteries-
Somehow with the mystics speaking
And fell upon my knees.

I roamed in the fields of beauty
Somewhere within the sphere
Of knowledge with greatness breathing
In fulness on my ear,
And turned to the heights of rapture
Oft times of which I heard
And felt for a while the breathing
Wrought by the Muse's word....



Strange -
That it takes but the scent of the sage
The sight of the traveller's palm
To arouse nostalgia, to make me rage
Against my fate in this alien cage.
Strange -
That the sight of blue waters could pall
When once they were so inviting,
That the heart could so impatiently call
For the nutbrown lake and amber canal
Strange -
That grand skyscrapers could weary the eye
Once surfeited with the sameness
Of houses on stilts, and the endless lie
Of macadam roads neathh a rain-wash'd sky.
Strange -
No, not strange, not strange T all, that the heart
Should clamour for the sounds and sights
Of its native shore, for the gleaming dart
Of the sea-wall on moonlight nights,
For the unspoil'd laughter of wee children
Romping hilariously on the strand,
For the monotonous chant of dark-skinn'd men
Cutting the rice-fields of their land.
For the spindly grace of coconut palms
And the gleam of Suddie-white sands
And the flower fragrant zephyr that calms
The hungry heart's demands.



It may be
That when all my youth has passed
Into the farflung years of time,
I will laugh
To think that once I dreamed of creating a braver world,
Of changing these sightless tenements and all this
Of bettering this hand-to-mouth existence
And imparting a little colour to so much
It may be


S That when enthusiasm has passed
Into the grave of what might have been,
I will laugh
To think that such a nonentity as I
Had evolved gigantic plans for humanity.......
But not now,
Not yet in this flesh of youth when each new dawn
Tiptoes in aquiver with expectancy,
Brimming with hope.



Quietly in some secluded spot,
My soul and I,
Beside the babbling brook, and fragrant sweet forget-me-not,
We both shall lie
There where Nature holds deep converse,
And the breeze
Make magical music to the lis'ning trees.
He'll lead us on to pastures evergreen,
My soul and I.


"Man Know Thyself"

The Will, the Mind and the Soul -
These three are the core of our being,
Our Body's the frame, know thyself man Beware
What you sow, lest you reap retrogression.
The Will is the power in man
That commands all our forces to action
To accomplish great deeds, though impossible seems,
Man is master or slave of Volition.
The Mind is subject to the Will
Hard-working, sincere and true
Like a transmitting set, receives, and rejects
Think high as you journey life through.
The Soul is the Spirit Supreme,
The life from the creative spark,
Of essence Immortal, Almighty, Eternal
God's presence in heaven, on earth.


I Affirm God's Presence is Here

God's presence is here,
I look into my inner consciousness,
I see Him with my spiritual eye,
God's presence is here.
God's presence is here,
I throw off this mortal frame,
I feel Him with my Christ-like self;
God's presence is here.
God's presence is here,
I'm illum'd, transfigur'd reborn -
Lack, evil, ill-health, disappear;
God's presence is here.


"Music in the Dark"

Dark; dark the very stars are dark.
My lone companion in the dark is Night.
I whistle trying to put to flight
My fears but then in vain; when hark !
My heart is suddenly alight
With music playing in the dark
Somewhere beneath the night.
A lone piano playing in the dark -
Long ling'ring notes encircling all the gloom;
Never before, I dare assume,
Did music ever make such mark
On any poet, with such tune
As this this music in the dark
Without a star, a moon.
No more whistling trying to quell fear ...
A few staccato notes turn dark to light
Then gay crescendo then a flight
Of rapid octaves in the air
Where is my lone companion Night?
Ah! I am left alone to hear
This music in the dark....

For My Son

The street is in darkness
Children are sleeping
Mankind is dreaming
It is midnight.

It is midnight
The sun is away
Stars peep at cradles
Far seems the day.

Who will awaken
One little flower
Sleeping and growing
Hour and hour?

Light will awaken
All the young flowers
Sleeping and growing
Hour and hour.

Dew is awake
Morning is soon
Mankind is risen
Flowers will bloom.


Anticipatory ?

Not if I knew it!
I would not budge,
I would not lift a hand
Or suffer that my lips
One whispered word should breathe
Repining or in protest
Or lamenting o'er my lot,

If one by one
The ones I loved and valued
Much more, perhaps, than life itself -
The ones I thought most sacred held
Human reciprocity,
Forsook me and forgot.

Oriens Ex Occidente Lux
To alumni and faculty U.C.W.I. reverently dedicated.

Light, in the West arise,
And paint the sombre shadows
of earth's night.
Shine in the Dawn of Truth,
To sense-soaked masses
shed immortal youth!
From East, in West shine on,
From sense to Spirit lead
mankind to dawn.



Ring your insistent summonses to men.
Stare with black mouth and white eyes from the wall
Gather live words in your brown box and then
Transmute them into waves electrical -
You have heard all, heard all, the light, the serious
Shop lists and invitations to the dance
Lovers' sweet nothings, parents' words imperious
Quarrels, brief triumphs over circumstance;
Have heard death-messages from tear washed faces
Have reproduced them all; each sigh, each snigger
Annihilator of slow time and spaces -
Each voice's modulations warmth or vigour
Yours neither sense nor soul, mere stuff and yet
This much your masters lack-you can forget.


Parchment and Quill

On parchment wrote the bards of old
Their songs of joy and tales of woe.
The words in which their stories told,
They carved with quill, and loved it so.

And we who write with fountain pen,
Can hear today the music still
Of their glad songs, e'en though they wrote
Their words on parchment with a quill!

104 L. C. DAVIS

Satan's Serenade

When the soul of a man is soaring higher
My minions who love me hover apace,
And with sin-sweet sounds that snare the sole flier
Draw near and watch the fear on his face, -
Draw near to bind him to bourn of his birth, -
To the home of his travail, his mother earth,
Though soft winds blow and Heaven seems nigher
The one who would 'scape my rule in this place.

Loveliest of mortals, Earth's Eve, came smiling,
I took her and taught her the way to hell,
Spoke strange words of wonder her heart beguiling
With secret of sorrow ye know so well.
I thought I could hold her ever in shade, -
In shade of the Beauty men saw dismayed
When the wise ones wept as my wilful wiling
Sowed visions of sadness man's songs would tell.



The moon's loaned gold's inwrought with sapphire light
And woven with the fleece of seraphs' skirts;
The crystal necklace of the vigil night
Hewn bright upon an angel anvil flirts
With cloth of blue. The blood of Christ is shown
In bars of sterile flame where sank awhile
To rest the gory day-star, which has known
Earth's centuries of weeping woe and shame
For Crucifixion's deed. But yonder floats
A wisp of sacerdotal white flecked with
Strong threads of frowning green -
This green's God's ire
At the black curse of homicidal sin,
The white's, the Chastning purge of Pentecostal fire!


The Chorus

But first Elpenor came, our friend Elpenor.
Unburied, cast on the wide earth,
Limbs that we left in the house of Ciroe,
Unwept, unwrapped in sepulcher, since toils urged other.
Pitiful spirit. And I cried in hurried speech:
"Elpenor, how art thou come to this dark coast?
Cam'st thou afoot, outstripping seamen?"
The long lost seas inundate his negative body, the spiritual explorer
by many shores of memory: the bright waves are light
like feathers upon his wide eyes.
Darkness falls in strange alarums
like bells off San Salvador (music he heard in imagination
reached Columbus,
was like a chorus of the dead
reiterating old crimes for new discovery)
And sunset or sunrise
was discovered equally guarding the mountain of his heart
He passes, lives or dies,
:s indifferently beautiful or ugly, wise or ignorant,
loved or unloved.
is borne strangely like eternal weed
scattering planets.
For what journey or journeys has he taken this form or derision
without realising his real substance
accompanied by furies and choruses of anguish
Sunlight scatters nowhere in particular
the surfaces of his exposed splendour
pricked by cramps and pains
by needles of despair.
And his garments
are woven of darkness. He wears light
only at noon but is formless like ulterior shadow
(this is the dark architecture of his closed eyes at noon
the tragic toil of the interior weary spirit
looking inward alone)
Still the bright golden sea of light washes the blind kingdom
impossible and possible shadows, population
on reefs of delight: the murmur of the stars press
like living desires. How to suspend death like life
in a moment or bubble of time, in a human temple,
in a universe of sound or crystal foam
in a moment that changes into eternity! How to dream
in a constant shape of life


that passes the doors of longing into a kingship of freedom,
into a world that is near, nearer than a heartbeat,
mysterious like a dark form of tumult, a darker republic fathomless,
with the passage of a strange deep suffering body, defiant of doom,
pressing the salt lips of peril to incessant delight!


The Cities

I have been to the cities,
The old cities,
Rome, Paris, Vienna,
London, Brussells, Amsterdam,
And indestructible, fragile man
I have seen
Living the flash bulb filament span
Of life
Amidst convex and vertical stones
And old monuments ...
The old cities,
Where age is worshipped
And age is the worshipper ......
The age bound cities,
The fog found cities,
The stone bound cities,
The twilight bound cities,
Where age is worshipped
And age is the worshipper.
And across the Atlantic seas
I have been to the new cities.
Epilogues of the old,
The light bound cities,
The steel bound cities,
The sky bound cities,
The stone bound cities,
Where mirrored spectre of the past
Is vista of the future,
And the brooding of the old cities
Appeared again,
The mirrored spectre of age was there again.
I have gone in my searching
To the cities,
The old cities,
Warsaw, Prague,
Athens, Lisbon,
And to the new cities
Across the Atlantic seas,
Washington, New York,


Chicago, Los Angeles....
Radar-pronged antenae of my searching
Groped everywhere....
The old cities...
The new cities....
But the faces were the same.
In snow, bleak rain,
Fog and miraculous sunshine,
I have searched
I have searched
I have searched,
But the face of the cities,
The old cities,
And the new cities
Across the Atlantic seas
Were the same.


Hindsight of England

There comes a knowing then
That it is winter when
The naked trees are clawing at the empty sky
Like phantom fingers frozen stretching high
Up to hold a nothingness.

This knowing comes again
With each new morning when
White piles of snow can find mirror
In sky that has no answer for
The hungry cry of blackened limbs.

And this awareness weaves
Torturing bands about the mind and leaves
Strangely contorted memories
Of flowers grinning through the green of trees
In too long-left homier lands.

Only the friendly touch
Of paler hands brings much
Relief from knowing through the cold forgetfullness
And feeling of a foreignness
That essences the winter.


Come Raise Your Voices

Children of Guiana, come raise your voices,
Hail ye with joy our Queen today.
One with the Empire in love and in loyalty
Gladly our homage now we pay.
From every part of our Sovereign's Dominions,
And wheresoe'er our Flag is seen,
We sing with heart and soul this chorus:
God bless the Empire-God Save the Queen.

God save the Queen, may her kingdom ne'er perish,
Wisdom and strength on her bestow
Grant her to reign with vision and courage.
May all the world her greatness know.
Give her we ask of Thee graces all glorious,
Love, Joy and Peace be hers for aye,
Crown her with blessing, glory and honour,
Hear Thou the Nation's prayer today.

National Anthem

And, like a bird at rest
In her own ample nest,
Let Britain close
Far-reaching wings and strong
O'er her colonial throng,
Guard, keep and shield them long
From all their foes.

While o'er the Empire's bound
The Sun shall skirt his round,
Shining serene
On one broad amity
Holding from sea to sea
Free rule and subjects free:

God save the Queen.


A Climber brave with dogged step (van Sertima) .. 87
A maiden loved me once (Glen) .. 16
And falling in splendour sheer down from the height (W. Lawrence) 25
And, like a bird at rest (Leo) .. 110
As I strode upon the shore one day (Simone) .. .. .. 48
At sunset when the sunbeams die (Harper) .. 53
Beauty about us in the breathe of names (Seymour) .. .. 7
Born in the land of the mighty Roraima (Bryant) .. .. 8
Chalice.shaped alluring lips (Ramcharitar-Lalla) .. .. 70
Children of Guiana, come raise your voices (Cossou) .. .. 109
Dark ; dark the very stars are dark (Trotman, Jnr.) 98
Dark the charcoal river flowed ceaselessly (Carew) 22
Day of delight, canst thou come now (Davis) .. .. 39
Dear lonely, little star untouched by age (Trotman) 55
Dear Solitude (Chinapen) .. .. .. .18
Lrip drip drip (Lalla) .. .. .. 31
Fleeting clouds race across a pink clad sky (Steele) 54
1rom out the Eastern sky are shot (Ruhoman) .. .. 35
Gigantic altar table of our God (Clementi) .. .. .. 19
Gladness and sorrow, laughter and tears (Reis) .. .. .. 90
God's presence is here (de Jonge) .. .. 97
Go song and greet her, my lady (Grimes) .. .. 62
Hail silver-throated, yellow breast (Ruhoman) .. .. 47
Her eyes are diamond orbs which speak in any tongue (Hamilton) .77
He shall touch God who reaches out and weeps (Taitt) 75
Hey Ho, the East Wind blows (Glen) .. .. .. 50
I brought these flowers that you with sweet kind smiles (Davis) .72
I came and they drunkened me lightly (Mittelholzer) .. 30
I came to live within the Sudden South (Piers) .. .. 28
I can no longer hide the truth (Leo) .. .. .. 64
I dance upon the brink of day (Harper-Smith) .. .. .. 52
I have been to the cities (Carew) .. .. .. ..107
I know the girls are coming (Lalla) .. .. 29
In a skirt of gentle breezes (de Weever) .. .. .. 59
In me I am troubled (Mittelholzer) .. 76
In the night, whispering tender words (Melville) .. .. .. 74
I sat in the land of poets (G. Harris) .. .. .. 92
I sat one afternoon and watched (Mittelholzer) .. .. 83
I saw my darling standing (Leo) .. .. 63
I saw them there beneath the palms at dawn (Trotman) .. 13
I saw you once a bit of throbbing life (Dalzell) .. 46
I see you resting on a still dark pool (Piers) .. .. .. 0
It is strange (W. Harris) ... 42
It is very peaceful here (Taitt) .. .. .. 79
It may be (Ting-a-Kee) .. .. .. 94
I told my heart to be careful (Reis) .. .. .. 61
I waited for the dawn, the lazy dawn (Clarke) .. .. 34
I wish the old sea wall could voice (Piers) .. .. 9
Lands open (W. Harris) .. ... 20
Legend that selling bore was hard as greenheart core (Carew) .. 21
Light, in the West arise (P. Lawrence) .. .. .. 101
Man of iron will possessed (van Sertima) .. 85
Mine was not a bitter rebellious mind (Davis) .. .. 71
My faith is stronger than circumstance (Smith) .. .. .. 89

Night kissed earth's lips (Mitchell) .. .. .. .. 60
Not hands (Carter) ... .. 3
Not if I knew it (W. Lawrence) .. .. 100
SNot slender grace here moves our lips (Cameron) .. .. 43
Now Makonaima, the Great Spirit dwelt (Seymour) .. .. 27
O beautiful Guiana (W. Lawrence) .. .. .. 1
O deep pink Rose, how gay you are (Piers) .. .. .. 11
Once I loved a woman (Glen) .. 78
On parchment wrote the bards of old (Harper-Smith) .. .. 103
Praise to the gods who moulded from (Harper-Smith) .. .. 58
SQuietly in some secluded spot (de Jonge) .. .. 95
Ring your insistent summonses to men (Rodway) .. .. 102
Roses pale in meek surrender (Tulloch) .. 67
Savage moon (Melville) .. 73
Send me a rose, dear, small and red and sweet (Trotman) .. 69
Slow, forest-girt Potaro, half asleep (Clementi) .. .. .. 23
Somewhere amid a vast and arid land (Simone) .. .. 91
Soul is like a hidden ocean (van Sertima) . 86
Splendour of morning, splendour of even, splendour of night (Leo) 33
Star of Eve, wandering companionless (White) 57
Still was my heart as if the sweet of slumber (Trotman) .68
Strange (Ting-a-Kee .. .. .. .. .. 93
Sunshine and showers (Reis) .. .. .. .. .. 38
That night when I left you on the bridge (Carter) 6
The flowers are dead on the grave and a sad sight lay (W. Lawrence) 80
This lad was born (Dalzell) . .. 30
The long lost seas inundate his negative body, the spiritual explorer
(Harris) .. .. .. 106
The moon's loaned gold's inwrought with sapphire light (Hamilon) 105
The people plough the land (Heath) .... .. 82
The perils of the night turn to roses (Brassington) .. 37
The rosy-tinted billows of the skies in glory roll (W. Lawrence) .. 38
There comes a knowing then (Josiah) .. .. 108
There runs a dream of perished Dutch plantations (Seymour) .. 2
These are the words of an old man (Harris) .. .. 84
The slaves groan; Freedom's domain they must share (Cameron) .. 4
The sinking sun proclaims the approach of night (Parris) .. 17
The Stars (Lalla) .. .. .. .. 56
The stars in galaxy I see (Tulloch) .. .. .. .. 66
The street is in darkness (Carter) .. .. .. .. 99
The sun sets on Leguan (Richmond) .. 15
The tender wind's thin fingertips (Josiah) .. .. .. 44
The twilight shuddered into gloom (Leo) 51
They led him through the forest wild (Welch) 26
The waves roll on across the shores of time (van Sertima) ..88
The Will, the Mind and the Soul (de Jonge) 06
This river mud-brown runs for winding miles (Dalzell) .. 12
Turbulent, pain-racked waves (Ting-a-Kee) 40
There are wedding-belied carnations (Seymour) 41
We have a sea on this shore (Carter) .. .. .. 5
When new moon's pallor blushes in the sky (de Weever) 65
When the soul of a man is soaring higher (Davis) .. 104
Who would not follow thee, swallow, in flight (Leo) 49
Wonder of the tropics (P. Lawrence) .24
Wrapped in close communion on the psychic borderland
(W. Lawrence) .. .. .. .. 81
Yes, I have seen them perched on paling posts (Seymour) .45
Your little tongues once whispered in the breeze (Harper-Smith) .. 14


Your best source of supply



Rayman's Drug Store
15 & 16 Croal Street Phone C. 90 & 9]

its Cheerfu


Over All

Guiana Match Factory,
Vreed-en-Hoop, W.B., Demerara



The Result of Expert Workmanship is always
appreciated by the Discriminating Woman.

The Excellent Assortment of

SJewellery including Filigree

Will be readily approved by both visitors
and residents of the colony as GIFTS of
outstanding quality and high value. What
makes our offer most remarkable is our

The Portuguese Mutual Pawn-
broking Company,
16, Robb & Hincks Streets I Phone Central 329.
Established over 62 years.


"Nothing is denied to well directed labour"

Let us therefore attribute the friendly patron-
age which we enjoy to the results of our labour
directed to the service of our customers.

In every line of our business we have extended
our efforts to acquiring top quality goods that
can be sold at the most reasonable prices.

As we have been doing through the years, we
offer YOU today, a service directed to the
making and keeping of friendly customers.

As you know we deal in Provisions of all kinds
Liquors, Hardware including Mining Equip-
ment, Agricultural Machinery and Implements,
Ironmongery, Glass, Earthen, Brass and
Enamel Ware, Cutlery, Stationery, etc., etc.

For top-quality goods at the most reasonable
prices your search ends at

J. P. SANTOS & Co., Ltd.




reach you through

Nuflield Products
B.S.A. Motor Cycles and Cycles
Goodyear Tyres
International Harvester Agricultural Equipment
G.E.C. Refrigerators and Electrical Appliances
Lucas Batteries and other Accessories
Frigidaire Refrigerators
Plulips Radios and Electrical Equipment
British Paints
Gestetner Duplicators
British Oil Engines
Tilley Kerosene Lamps and Domestic Irons
Electrolux Refrigerators and Cleaners
Hercules Cycles
Slazenger Sports Equipment
Kodak Photographic Equipment

PHONE C. 1151.







SSandbach Parker & Co., Ltd.
Established 1790.

558, 559, Water Street,
Tel. o560 & 107. Georgetown.

We aim to please with -



:and achieve this object by the skilful blending of specially
selected tobaccos, in order to give that satisfaction that
is expected and obtained from these fine cigarettes.

The Demerara Tobacco Co., Ltd.


For Pleasure,

For Comfort,

For Long Life...


H. B. GAJRAJ Ltd.,
Water & Bentinck Streets, Georgetown.


I E ssoR



~~ I

---- ~---



The New Vauxhall
With the new Square Engines


Acclaimed as the greatest success in years

No wonder trade and public alike
are applauding the new Vauxhalls
wherever they are displayed! Here,
without overclaiming, is engineering
technique years ahead of its time!
Study these outstanding cars as a
whole, or in every detail of their
specification, and you will agree. We
shall be proud to show them to you.

21 litres; 75 m.p.h. For really
high performance with surprising
economy. (25 m.p.g. with normal

Same size, same modern styling as
Velox; it litre engine, and out-
standing economy. (Well over
30 m.p.g. with normal driving.)

The Central Garage,


I -.- ---- .-.- -



It can

be Misery or it can be

If you choose to travel to Britain by Cunarder from
Sew York or Canada, you will enjoy:-
The Finest Food in the World.
S On the Finest Ships in the World.
Which are the Largest and Fastest Ships in the World.
Giving a Service Second to None.
THE COST? Very comfortable accommodation can be booked
for as little as $273.60 (B.G.) from New York
$256.80 (B.G.) from Canada

Call in and discuss your trip with



For Reliability and Easy Running.




* .


Cen. 660. I Q&
moCTD I *CinUroD Ml

Lombard St.

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