For Little Poets

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXVI, Issue 23471, 7 October 1939, Page 9 (Supplement)

For Little Poets

GOLD Folks speak of gold at the rainbow's end, Yet I've no gold to lend or spend; Nor have I ever found Gold coins, old and round; But I once found in the still Garden of the early morn— Fresh from the hands of God— The dew-Wet gold of a daffodil. —lris Wyn Reeves.

★ THE STRAY Sketch copied by Nancy Hansen (16). *

He really Was nobody's dog at all, He was dirty and ragged and thin end small; But he looked at Jim, with a hopeful eye, As if he Would say: "Just one more try— For here is a boy who looks quite kind, He won't throw stones if I run behind; I'll scamper along and I'll just pretend That I've got an owner and got a friend." For it's more to a dog than a meaty bone To have a boy of his very own. So he Wagged his tail and he ran so hard. And he crept through the gate and into the yard; And Jim said: "Mother, please let him slay, He's hungry and cold, and a poor little stray." The little dog shivered and crouched down low, He was so afraid that he'd have to go. He had followed so many boys in vain, And been driven off in the cold and the rain f He had nowhere to go, and nothing to-eat, So he laid his head on the &iW boy's feet. And that's how this little dog found a friend, And all his troubles were at an end. —Alice A. Kenny.