ORIGINAL VERSE

Southland Times, Issue 20044, 4 December 1926, Page 22 (Supplement)

ORIGINAL VERSE

It is much easier to write descriptive verse and heavily sentimental verse than it is to catch hold of a light touch and keep its lightness throughout a poem. That is why I was so pleased with Cousin Daphne Godward’s “Goodbye, which remains light and whimsical even with the more serious note struck in the last Terse. As long as it isn’t actually true, of course, and this her way of letting us know! This is a distinct step forward in her work, and I hope will be a forerunner of many similar ones. “GOODBYE." There’s one little word we all know well, And it’s said with a smile and a sigh; For sometimes it sings like a silvery bell, And sometimes it tolls for a friendship’s knell; And there’s often a tear lies deep in the spell Of that sweet little word—“ Goodbye." There’s one little word so hard to say, * When the parting time is nigh; For the hearts of those who are going away, Cry out with a yearning wish to stay, And there’s all that belongs to the yesterday In that one little word—“ Goodbye.” There’s one little word that means so much, And it’s said with a tear in the eye; For whether it’s English, or French or Dutch, There is always a memory around it such That recalls a sigh, or a look or a touch With that sad little word—“ Goodbye." There’s one little word I leave to-day, And I know you will wonder why; For although my heart is bidding me stay, I know' it is best I am going away, And your heart will answer you why when I say This one little word—“ Goodbye." —4 marks to Cousin Daphne Godward (17), “Rockhaven, 397 Elies Road, North Invercargill. Smacking of Milton’s “L’Allegro,” Cousin Millicent Broadbent, too, has caught more happiness in her new poem on “Summer” than she has done for some time. The effect is pleasing, although in places her meaning is not quite as clear as it could be. I can see what she means by “to wake the strain that thou doth please;’’ but this taken literally, does not give the meaning she intends. I liked the “dimples in thy jovial face.” She repeated “jovial” lower down where I substituted “careless." In a small, compact verse like this it is not wise to repeat an idea. SUMMER. Dancing, laughing, jesting fay, Why art thou so far away? For whilst thy name in truth is here Thou dost nowhere yet appear. Haste there, for we long to trace The dimples in thy jovial face. Oh, haste thee, for we’ve waited long To laugh with thee in dance and song. Come, and bring with thee the flowers We’ve waited through the dismal hours. Firing with thee the broader days, When the sunshine longer stays. Bring the twilight hours of peace, And youthful gayness f ’ll release. Kiss with, sudden, can less mirth All the winter’s sullen earth; Tip the skylark on the ’’ i”"s. That he rises high ai d sings; Wake the meadows, bromes ... t u trees, To sound the strain that thou doth please, Summer, Summer, haste, oh haste, Thou hast little time to waste; Come to us, oh Summer gay, Stay not thou so far away! —4 marks to Cousin Millicent Broadbent (15), 5 Compton Road, Trafalgar, Invercargill. Although I do not like the verse-pattern .he has used for her "Mermaid’s Song" (probably because of its association with “The Children’s Hour" which has been spoilt by being learnt at school—the too obvious rhythm becomes rather ludicrous on repetition)—apart from this, Cousin Annie Ployfair has done well, and has managed to convey something of what a mermaid’s song could be. She still cannot resist those little flourishes —“lovingly linger,” for instance—which threaten to weaken her work. THE MERMAID’S SONG. When the flames of sunset are fading, And shadows are creeping along, There falls on the htish of evening, The wail of the mermaid’s song. The silence grows strangely pathetic, It seems to be listening, too, With breathless admiration, To the song from the ocean blue. The music seems to be sobbing A beautiful, sad lament; And the cadences lovingly linger, As though they were truly sent To fill all the world with wonder, At the sound of the evening hymn, The echoes are full of yearning, As the light of the day grows dim. And then with a drowsy chorus, With a mournful calling and long, There ends, on the fall of a breaker, The wail of the mermaid’s song. —4 marks to Cousin Annie Playfair (16), Gummies Bush. Somehow the distance between the first and last lines of the verses of “Home" are too far apart to sustain the value of the rhyme. After the effect of “town” and “down” the last line seems to be a wee bit weak—it needs a closer rhyme to be effective, I think. There is good atmosphere in this other poem of Daphne’s. HOME. A place that lies beyond the surging sea Of toil-lined faces in the smoking town, Where I may take my cares when day is done, And in a scented garden, lay them down; While blazed with gold fire from the dying sun, „ The cool green pines shall whisper love to me. A lamp that pours a welcome on the night, And tempts the foot-sore traveller in to rest, Where simple pleasures fill the hours of eve And tired hearts with deep content are blest; While from the smiles of those around we weave The treasured texture of our life’s delight. Dear God, I thank thee, that the long day past, My aching feet may turn to home, at last! —4 marks to Cousin Daphne Godward (17) 397 Elies Road, North Invercargill. I liked this verse “My Favourite Spot" very much, and if Cousin Irene Ford continues in the excellent way she has begun we should have work of even greater worth from her. There is quite a lot of colour in her four verses, and she has infused a very real love into them. I wonder if she really knows a spot like that? I should like to know; it certainly sounds as if she does. MY FAVOURITE SPOT. Along beside the river bank, ’The children played all day, With their laughing, merry voices W’ho could be else but gay? Perhaps it was because the sun Shone glorious, hot and bright, Perhaps because seagulls there Had paused in their long flight. Perhaps it was because the sand Was lying all around: Perhaps it was from sheerest joy, In the place that they had found. But I think it was the place itself, Where the very ripples seem To be like diamonds sparkling there So brightly do they gleam. —3 marks to Cousin Irene Ford (14), Redan street, Wyndham. Repeating the theme of her story in verse, Cousin Elsie Amos has done very well with “When The Skylark Sings." I have a feeling that she is taking much more care over her work, and the result is certainly worth it. WHEN THE SKYLARK SINGS. ■While the skylark was sitting on its nest, With daisies all around, He softly heard the fairies pass, And never made a sound. He watched them, oh, so carefully, Dancing here and there, Touching things with magic wands» Making them look fair. He listened to the song they sang, He thought it, oh, so sweet, He thought that he would copy it, And gave the earth a treat. When the dawn was breaking, The fairies flew away, So up he rose with gladness, Singing all the day. He learned it all so carefully, When the grass was wet with dew. That now he knows that song so v.. 1, He pours it out to you. >—2 marks to Cousin Elsie Amos (13), Mabel Bush.