OUR OWN VERSEMAKERS

Evening Post, Volume CV, Issue 88, 14 April 1928, Page 14

OUR OWN VERSEMAKERS

"MY HILL OF CONTENT." I see a fine hill out yonder, Standing up against the blue sky; Oh, how we should love to wander, Just my jolly old friend and I. We would climb up to the skyline, Where we would search for the wild flowers That dance with glee in the sunshine And laugh at us from the bowers. The bowers are where sweet ferns grow, That dance as the. breeze puffs away— _ : 'Twill be lovely to see them dancing When you go up that hill some day. ESME JACOBSON. Wadestown. Rather neatly turned, Esme, with a sweet title, the essential rhymes right, and a sharp little picture that one can see clearly over your shoulder. Here and there there is a beat too many in a line, but even the master poets do that occasionally! ... You have "dance" or "dancing" three times in two verses; that's a weakness. Flowers can, and do, d-ince,- but I'm not so sure about the ferns. Try writing that last stanza again—for yourself. . . . And from that skyline, with the world spread out beneath and around you, would you see only the bower? — Fairiel.