In Verseland.

Auckland Star, Volume LXIX, Issue 208, 3 September 1938, Page 2 (Supplement)

In Verseland.

THE FAIREST FLOWER.

I (By Gloria Humphreys, 2, Embankment I Grove, Chelsea, Victoria.) Hollyhocks, sweet hollyhocks, Growing stately and tall, Pearled with gleaming dewdrops, At the evenfall. In the flower garden. Are vou queen of all? Lily, lily, Tall and fair and cold, Snowy petals veiling. Heart of purest gold, Does the world of flowers Richer treasure hold? Laced with gold and green. In the realm of flowers. You shall reign as queen! Tulip, tulip, Clad in varied htie, Flaunting gorgeous colours, In the sunshine new, Is there any flower, To compare with you? Wattle, golden wattle, You are best. I ween, Decked in fluffy blossoms, You shall reign as queen. KING CHARLES L (Copied by Kay Friend, Glen Murray, via Tuakau.) King Charles was such a gentleman, He wore the finest suits, With scented gloves upon his hands, And lace upon his boots. His liat it had the widest brim, And very longest feather, And in a golden barge he sailed, The Thames in summer weather.

THE RAIN MAN.

(By Elaine Hewitt. 21. Papahia Street, Parnell. C 4.) One night in summer time the rain-man came round, And with his 'normous watering-can he sprinkled all the ground. lie rained upon the wet, wet sea, and on all outside things, And, I believe, it they'd been there, he would have rained on kings! But I said to the rain-man, With my nose against the pane, "Rain, rain., go to Spain, And mind you don't come back again:" Away down in the garden, I heard a wee voice say, "The flowers are very thirsty after the long, hot day, The pansies have hidden their faces, and the lilies cannot play, And I am a crimson baby rose, and I want the rain to stay." But I said to the rain-man, With my nose against the pane, "Rain, rain, go to Spain, And mind you don't come back again!" Blue was the sky next morning, bluer than all things blue, It was my birthday morning, X was really three times two! With the green grass under my feet and the green leaves overhead, On that beautiful birthday morning dear baby rose lay—dead! So I never say now to the rain-man, ith my nose against the pane, "Rain, rain, go to Spain, And oiind you don't come back again:" —Original.