Some Poems.

New Zealand Times, Volume L, Issue 11411, 6 January 1923, Page 13

Some Poems.

Original and Selected.

THE SUNSET

d An almost perfect day was drifting o'er the edge of time, a And lonely tinls of blue and pink and r gold made skies sublime, g The summer heat was tempered by a d light, refieshing breeze, g And many folks were lounging in the shadow of the trees i "The sun is setting, 6onnie. Watch it - sinking lr the sea," a Said Daddy, seated or* the Prom with e Dicky on his knee. And Dicky looked with eager eyes to see e the big display. But he was feeling languid; he had had f a heavy day. 9 So many forts to plan and build, sand castles to erect. And—joyful task—a squad of nice new soldiers to inspect; s He felt so weary, quite content to cuddle 3 down and lest, r Unheeding all the grandeur of the love--1 ly shining "West, But now, in swift obedience to the wishes p of his eire » He fixed his sleepy eyes upon the gleam* \ ing ball of fire. p Then murmur'd ir a drowsy voice, "It's 3 red-hot now—gee, whiz! And. Daddy, when it drops into the ) water will it £zz?" l —MARIB A. FEY. r "Red Magazine/' [ HOMELAND RIVERS , (The rivers of home are dear to all } men, but the rivers of Scotland are incomparable in themselve6, or am I only r the more Scottish to suppose to i —R.L.S.) ' Adown the rugged mountain-sides, With loam flashing free. Through rocky gorge and woodland dell . They're rushing to the sea. One turns toward fair eastern lands, One seeks the setting sun ’ By ivied cot and castle walls. Until their race, is run. The rivers of the Borderland I To Border hearts are daer, L Where Yarrow winds in golden links 1 And Till runs rippling clear. The classic Tweed by Abbotsford And Melrose Abbey old [ Sings old-time lays o' other days 1 When raider hearts were bold. The rivers o’ the west countrie Are rich beyond compare, By X/Ugar's banks and Gluden side On to the winding Ayr. From Girvan'a fairy-haunted stream, Where Irvine waters croon. To where, enshrined in deathless song. There glides the Bonnie DoonAnd exiled hearts beyond the.*seas. However far they roam. Whene'er they meet J ti6 passing sweet To sing their Scottish home. Her heather hills and muirland dells. Her waters wimpling clear, Her auld Soots sangs that grip the heart And bring back memories dear. —JAMBS ALBAN. —Chambers Journal.

THE FOOL’S PRAYER The royal feast was done; the king Sought some new sport to banish care, And to his jester cried, "Sir Pool, Kneel now for us and make a prayer/' The jester doffed his cap and bells. And stood the mocking court before; They oould not 6ee the oitter smile Behind the painted grin 'he wore. He bowed his head rr.d bent his knee Upon the monarch s silken stool; His pleading voice arose: "Oh, Lord, Be merciful to me, a fool! "These dumsy feet, still in the mire. Go crashing blossoms without end; These hard, well-meaning hands we thrust Among the heart-strings of a friend. "The ill-timed truth that we have kept: We know how sharp it pierced and stung! The word we had not sense to say— Who knows 'how grandly it had rung? "Our faults no tenderness should ask; The chastening stripes muet cleanse them all; . But for our blunders—oh, in shame Before the eyes of Heaven we fall! “Earth bears no balsam for mistakes; Men crown the knave and aoourge the tool That did His will; but thou. Oh, Lord, Be merciful to me, a fool!” The room was hushed; in silence rose The king, and sought his garden 0001, And. walked apart, and murmured low, "Be merciful to mo, a fool!” —EDWARD HOWLAND SILL.

LATE AFTERNOON IN WINTER

’ The scorch’d earth reeks o’ the sun; and yet the air i Strikes cool on cheek and brow. Above the street The golden dust floats like a cloud. The sweet, 1 Strong smell of burning grass is waft from where, : On flat-topped Zwart-kop, gleams a cincture rare Of topaz flame. A something of suspense Stays hurrying feet; eyes, ears, and spirit sense The mystery, that day and evening share For one brief moment only. Sudden night Falls on the city and its circling hills; But, lo! upon the sea of shadow spills' A brightness from the moon's yet veiled light; And high upon the heavens' empurpled screen The evening star glows, radiant and serene. —R. M. MASON. Pietermaritzburg, Natal. —Chambers's Journal. PANSIES A kind friend gave me a bouquet, sweet, Of pansies, of varied hue— Purple, and golden, and violet faint. ■ And deepest, and darkest blue. 1 The little viola we a there as well. With its delicate sweet perfume. The fairest gem in a diadem Of perfect and brilliant bloom. Oh! days that are flown down the wingfl of Time; Oh! memories, far ever bleat,. The pansy brings to my heart to-day Fond thoughts of the loved, "at —LAURA JEAN VICTORY. RHYMES FOR THE CHILDREN HICKORY, DICIKORY. DOCK I Hickory, diokory, dock! It’s after nine o'clock. And Pm about, For nurse is out, Hickory, dickory, dock I Hickory, dickory, dock! It’s only six o'clock! To bed I'm sent, As punishment. Hickory, dickory, dock! THE HOUSE OF DREAMS. Because I felt lonely among the others-. A cripple with frolicking, sisters and brothers— My godmother fain made me a dower Of a wonderful house with an ivory tower. So I leave my crutch at the ivory door. And run and leap like the rest cnee more. Safe in my House of Dreams I find All that I want, and just to my mind. And though its stufflees walls are built Of moonbeam-shafts, and vapours gilt. It will still be mine, so the fairies say. When houses of stone have crumbled away. 810 SISTER. Sissy and Chris, end Pat and me. Sit round the fire after tea; Sis tells us stories, we cry "Morel" It is so jolly, just we four. MAKE-BELIEVE. There's a scaly dragon waiting In a cave beneath the stairs. And if he doesn't get you There’s some hungry grizzly bears— They live up on the housetop, And they prowl and growl around. And you're certain to be eaten If you make the slightest sound. There’s an ogre in the cellar,’ And the floor's all strewn with bones* There’s a pirate in the attio With a bag of precious stones; But Nanny won’t believe it. And she always says "For shame! I'm sure, now you're eleven. You’re too old for such a game,** FRIENDS IN NEED. Master and Mistress Harvest Mousiew With their children, eight exactly. Sat one dawn in their wee housie, 'Midst the cornstalks built compactly. Came a lost red-capped ftdry, "From my comrades I amparted; Take me in your nest. <o ally; Let me sleep there, mice kind-hearted I** So the mice took in the stranger. Closer squeezed, sceroe foot or head room; Kept him snug and safe from daugwy Till set of sun in their beet bedroom, —"My Magazine.*?