SELECT POETRY.

Southland Times, Issue 642, 11 March 1867, Page 3

SELECT POETRY.

* HUNTING THE WIND. When the fire is burning bright, And the kettle hums and sings In the happy winter night, Children talk of many things : Talk of mermaids in the sea And of fairies in the wood, Pretty things that ought to be, And surely would be if they could ! Then the wind comes creeping near, Tired of fighting with the trees, List'ning with a sort of fear, To such merry sounds as these ; Crying like a child in pain, With a foolish ceaseless din, Knocking on the glass again, Begging them to let it in ! Out spake little Curlyhead : " This poor wind is taken ill ; Soon it will be lying dead On the frozen window-sill. Very cruel children we If we let it die alone — If we do not run and see Why it makes that dreary moan." And he flung the window wide, | And the wind came tearing through, Dashing everything aside With its hulla-bulla 100 ! Blowing both the candles out — Roaring, rushing, raving by — Scattering the smoke about — While the children scream and fly ! Out spake little Cnrlyhead, Though his breath he scarce can draw ; " Nurse would snatch us off to bed If this horrid mess she saw ! Hunt the thankless creature low — Seize it, catch it, if you can. I will teach it, manners, though, If 1 live to be a man !" Chubby arms are flung about, Toddling ieet run here aud there — Some would chase the creature out, Some would tie it to a chair — While the eldest of the crowd Shuts the window w v ere she stands, Liitle Blue-eyes shouts aloud She has caught it in her hands ! Curlyhead, with manly rage, Stamps liis foot and cri -s "Hurrah!" Redcheeks brings an empty cage, Wh *re no pretty birdie s are ; Little Blue-eyes, fat and fair, Hoilow'd hands ab >ye her head, Moves with cauti-ma footsteps where Redcheeks stands with Curlyhead. Curlyheai the cage doth hold, Redcheeks keeps ie open wide, Little Blue-eyes, when she's told, Thrusts h-r two lat hands inside. Ah ! they have the fellow now, Little Hlut-eyes shouts anew ; Curlyhead performs a bow, Redcheeks makes a curtsey too ! Hang the cage up if you will, Claj'i your hands, ye hunters rare. But he is so sad and still — Are you sure that he is there ? Ah! the days are coming when You'll have many a eh-isis as blind; — Capture, triumph, lau;h, and thon But an empty casket find ! «.