Children's Column

Putaruru Press, Volume XI, Issue 268, 7 September 1933, Page 3

Children's Column

FOR YOUNG PUTARUEU FOLK

Motto for the Week: To-morrow cannot make or mar To-day, whate’er the day may be. Nor can the men which now we are Forsee the men we may be. Dear Girls and Boys,— Spring’s come! At least, it appears so. I picked a wonderful bunch of golden daffodils last week. They always make us sure that 1 gentle spring is near at hand. You will see a complete list of Buds and Leaves printed to-day. I do not count essays or jokes as a letter. It is just the real “ Dear Jill ” letters I count and mark down in my little blue book. There are eight Buds and two or three of those will very soon be Flowers. I do hope some of the very first Leaves, Betty Beck, Peter Sanders, Heather Harwood, and heaps more, have not fallen off cur tree. I would be pleased to hear from you again, please, members.

Did you all have happy holidays? I got two or three letters written to me because there was no school. So the holidays accounted for some new leaves. There is a place just out of Cambridge called, very aptly, “ Springwoods.” I do believe it is like English farms. The drive up to the house is all English trees, that have pale green leaf buds. Growing around the roots are daffodils, jonquils and snowdrops. They look beautiful at this time of the year. I wish you could all see it. If I ever have a farm of my own I’m going >- to plant bulbs wherever there are trees. I hope you all enjoy the Page to-day. The letters are interesting; also a spring contribution from a “ grown-up ” lady which I ' think is just fine. I read a poem the other week which I decided would be ideal for this page. Here it is:— Petal Snow. Who has not seen in (September) a petal storm Sweep through an orchard, as if winter came Again on earth in its most familiar form, And, white with anger, like a vengeful Same, Inspired by memories of some ( ancient wrong,

■ Had persuaded the fair goddess of Spring, jTo whom their seasons rightfully belong, To change to each white and blossoming thing ? . i This they had done and turned to fragile flakes Fell apple and pear and cherry bloom. And all white-petal flower that Beauty makes, Giving the world a hint of blizzard gloom. Of all Spring’s charms that make her name a feast Her snowstorms grown on trees are not the least. I expect you have all seen a snowstorm like that. In a few weeks they will be quite common. Good-bye for now. JILL. SPRINGTIME. (Original.) Under the green draped boughs of spring The happy little birdies sing. Bursting their little throats with joy, With nothing around them to annoy. While down in the great green fields below The men are busy with the hoe. Little lambs around their mothers flock, j While baby birdies in their cradles rock. And down in the beautiful, bubbling brook The little fishes dart from nook to nook. INVITATION. Come out! Come out! For Spring is about, Come up to the top of the windy hill, , \ Lift your face to the sun and the racing clouds, Sing with the wind as it whistles shrill High over the greening trees, and low Over gold of the dancing daffodil. Come out! Come out! Hear the glad world shout, “ For you is the radiant air a-thrill With the joy of a thousand feathered throats,

For you is the sun and the greenbrowed hill, The hurrying clouds, and the wind as it blows Over the hlossoming world at will.” Come out! Come out! For Spring is about, i And the Spring’s for you. | —Elizabeth Gould.