THE WEEK’S POEM.

Otago Witness, Issue 4069, 8 March 1932, Page 68

THE WEEK’S POEM.

A beach poem this week, children, in Which a poor child, seeking for driftwood with which to make a fire, is accompanied by a little sandpiper. The bird is so friendly that the child is concerned about where it will shelter when the threatening storm breaks, but, on realising that Someone greater than the tempest will look after it, ceases to fear for its safety. DOT.

THE SANDPIPER. Across the narrow beach we flit, ' One little sandpiper and I, And fast I gather, bit by bit, The scattered driftwood bleached and dry. £he wild waves reach their hands for it, The wild wind raves, the tide runs high, As up and down the beach we flit, One little standpiper and I. Above our heads the sullen clouds Scud black-and swift across the . sky, Like silent ghosts in misty shrouds Stand out the white .lighthouses high. Almost, as far as eye cafi reach I see the close-reefed vessels fly, • As fast We flit along the beach/ ■' v '> One little sandpiper and I. ; J watch him as he skims along, - Uttering his sweet and mournful cry; He starts not at. my fitful song, ' ... Or flash of fluttering drapery, • • ? He has; no thought of any wrong. He scans me with a fearless eye— Staunch.friends are we, well"tried and strong, ’ " . ’ The little sandpiper and I. . {Comrade, where wilt thou be to-night, When the loosed storm breaks furiously? JMy driftwood fire will burn so bright! To what warm shelter canst thou fly? I do not fear for thee, though wroth The tempest rushes through the sky; For are we not God’s children both, Thou, little sandpiper, and I? —Celia Thaxter.