A School Essay.

Matamata Record, Volume XVI, Issue 1447, 3 August 1933, Page 3

A School Essay.

“ SPRING.” ! (By Rene Gifford, Convent School, Morrinsville.) I j Spring! What vision conies before our minds as we say the word. Smiling, green hills, sun-bathed valleys, winding silver rivers, floating water lilies, the banks covered with ferns and bluebells, clear skies, fluffy white clouds, folded buds, and birds nearly bursting with song! These are the wonders of spring! It is delightful to go for a walk in spring. Once I went for a long walk in spring across the fields. In the green rustling trees the tiny feathered songsters were noisily building their cosy wee nests. Cows, munching peacefully in the long, lush grass, gazed placidly at me.

The sun had just risen, leaving his rose-pink bedroom curtains ’ hanging out of the window. Proudly the “ great timekeeper ” sailed a sky which was the blue of a baby’s eyes. Every tiny crystal-clear drop of dew sparkled in the sun’s bright rays, and tightly-curled ferns raised green-brown fronds. Peeping shyly from the small hollows of the field I found tiny, dew-sprinkled primroses. Indeed, the whole world seemed changed into a fairyland of wondrous beauty. The dainty pink-tipped daisies strewn over the .fields looked like the pearls dropped from the slender fingers of a passing beautiful princess.

As I feasted my eyes on this magical scene, I could almost see Fairy Spring, her golden hair flying around her sweet face, her tiny, pink-tipped toes scarcely touching the dewy ground, and her gauzy wings shining and changing colour in the sun’s golden rays. Now palest pink, now green, now azure-blue, and her gown the faintest shade of green, and at the touch of her magic wand a dead, white world had been changed into a green wonderland.

Let us take a peep into the gardens. There, also, Fairy Spring has passed, leaving fragrance, bright butterflies and singing birds. The wattle tree is ablaze with golden blossoms, small flowering faces, just awakened, smile at their father, the sun, while lazy, droning honey-bees pass laden with golden honey. But all these beauties are not really from Fairy Spring’s magic wand; they are from God’s hand, and they are but a reflection of God’s own great beauty, and we should never forget to thank Him for the wonders of Spring.