ORIGINAL VERSE

Southland Times, Issue 20496, 26 May 1928, Page 22 (Supplement)

ORIGINAL VERSE

Cousin James Botting does not write as much verse now as he used to do; but he has not forgotten the art of verse-making, as his cheery little poem of this week proves. “The Model Boy” is brightly written, not awkward, and working up to a good climax. It has much to commend it and its clever author . THE MODEL BOY. He hops out in the morning, As soon as he awakes, And in his morning duties, A cheery interest takes. He closes doors so softly, As he’s been taught to do . And pushes on so calmly; Not cross or in a stew. He never goes round frowning, Sulky or in a pet; But I am forced to tell you— He’s a chap I’ve never met. —4 marks to Cousin James Edgar Botting (12), Woodlands. Cousin May Heath’s little poem of two verses is well done. Its metre is, as usual, good; and in her usual way, too, she has managed to express her thoughts so naturally and simply that one wonders why they had not been expressed like that before. I would like her to try longer poems now. DAYBREAK. Sweet and fair the morning dawns, The birdies twitter low, The brooklet murmurs happily, Its song I’d like to know. O’er the top of the mountain Is peeping the rosy sun, He seems to say to all the world A new day has begun. —4 marks to Cousin May Heath (11), Dunrobin (via Heriot). Cousin Mabel Wright’s poem, “Eventide” ends better than it begins. Its imagery is good, and its expression more natural than is usual with this promising writer. I admire her persistence very much. EVENTIDE. The sun had sunk in the golden west, The tired wind lady had gone to rest, Blushing clouds faded and floated away, ’Twas the dying hour of the fine summer day. The soft echoes of a night bird’s call Mingled with the laugh of the waterfall, Night scented stocks awakened from sleep, And wafted sweet fragrance for fairies to keep. Slowly mystic wings of night unfurled Around the dreamy tranquil world, The sky as pure as a sapphire gem Wore many a glittering diadem. Big Lady Moon swept the milky way, And sent to earth her beams so gay, Silent hills in the distance loomed, Silver breakers broke and, breaking, boomed, —3 marks to Cousin Mabel Wright (15), Makarewa. Cousin Jack Heath spoilt his excellent little poem by his last word. I do not like slang to be used at all, especially if it suggests any coarseness whatever. Of course Jack did not intend that I know; but beef is an ugly word to be applied to any part of the human body. ICE. There is ice upon the pond, And we will have much fun Skating on it merrily When all our work is done. I hope that when I’m sliding I do not come to grief, By falling right down through the ice And hurting my poor beef. —3 marks to Cousin Jack Heath (9), Dunrobin (via Heriot).