Songs of the Wind in the Trees

Southland Times, Issue 20538, 14 July 1928, Page 10 (Supplement)

Songs of the Wind in the Trees

—First Prize.— I am the spirit The Autumn Queen wed. I ought to be planning Our next season’s spread; But here I am singing In tree-tops instead. • I am the music That sings in the trees, To bid them keep sleeping, A little while, please And tell them Spring’s coming And Summer and bees. The pine trees I’m bending, To greet the night sky; To wee clouds I’m chasing, See how they scud by. The fairies I’m ’ticing To frolic so gay Down they come gliding Each on a moonray. The birdies I’m hushing, The winter’s night long When gone is day’s shining They love the Wind’s song. —5/- and 4 marks to Cousin James Botting (13), “Terry Hill,” Woodlands.

—Second Prize.— The wind sings a song as it blows through the trees, A wondrous song of the storm-tossed seas, Of the beautiful sun-kissed lands afar, Of the waves dashing high o’er the sandy bar. Its song is wafted over the plain, And bids the roses waken again, To the birds it whispers a low sweet song, As they all flock round in a merry throng. It croons a song as the thistledown floats, Away through the air, Rke fairy boats, With music sweet as the scent of flowers, Stirring the leaves in the woodland bowers. The wind sings a song that is fierce and shrill, As the dark clouds hang on the lofty hill, Its music echoes o’er field and down, As a snowflake mantle covers the town. —2/6 and 2 marks to Cousin Isa Robertson (14), 110 Chelmsford Street, North Invercargill. —Highly Commended.—• There’s a singing in the forest, When the wind blows through the trees, Sometimes loudly, sometimes sadly, Sometimes just a whispering breeze. There’s a joy-note in its singing, Which all the world may hear, For the earth is bright and happy, And joyous Spring is here. There’s a glad note in its singing For the earth’s in gayest dress, The roses all are blooming, ’Neath the Summer sun’s caress. There’s a sad note in its singing, For it is an Autumn day, The leaves lie ghostlike—restless, To be caified far away. The earth is in grim Winter’s grip, And frost and snow are here, But the song is loud and laughing, Bringing jollity and cheer. It holds so many secrets, • Brought by each tiny breeze, And I can never understand, That singing in the trees. When the earth is gay and happy, Summer sprites play in the breeze, Laughing in their frolic, And the wind sings in the trees. Then its song is of the sunshine, And the summer and the flowers, Whispering little love idylls, Of birds and leafy bowers. But when our hearts are heavy, And the wind sings in the trees, A dirge, it is, hushed, crooning, Pitched in softer, sadder keys, And it seems to heal and soothe us And past the shadows drift, And we listen to the singing, For our hearts and souls uplift. —2 marks to Cousin Gwen W. Irwin (15), “Ellerslie,” Lochiel. -—Highly Commended.— Oh, what a wealth of joy it brings, As it frolics, whirls and dances. Oh, what a gleeful song it sings, As it whistles through the branches. There’s a secret in the song it sings, That gladness brings before us. There’s a message with the joy it brings, That charms its tuneful chorus. Sometimes wild and sometimes gentle, But always with the same sweet thought That seems to charm the forest mantle With a song from brooklets brought.

What limpid song does the great wind sing, With its message of fairy origin. The enchanting secret that it brings, Is the fruit of endless foraging. —2 marks to Cousin Betty Wilson (14), 111 William street, South Invercargill. —Highly Commended.— Blow on! Oh winter wind— Cease not your sighing song. Mem’rys are wakening— Blow gently and blow long. The world is listening And al! the night birds hush. The stream in harmony Forth from the woods does gush. The swaying evergreens Yield to your soft caress. You dance and play with them And praise their leafy dress. The ocean soothes her roar While faintly, far away From distant summer trees, There floats your gentle lay. The starlights twinkle out To ask the King of Light Whence so very sweet a song Is borne on wings of night. Blow on! Oh winter wind— Cease not your sighing song. Mem’rys are wakening— Blow gently and blow long. —2 marks to Cousin Annie Williamson, (13), P.O. Box 60, Balclutha. —Highly Commended. — Hark I hear sweet music Stealing through the trees Whisp’ring, sighing, singing. It is the balmy breeze. Whether the day be dull Or whether it be fair I hear that fairy music Floating through the air. Oft it tells a story Of other sunny lands Of wondrous rivers flowing O’er the golden strands. Then in angry tumult It tosses ev’ry bough Wailing, shrieking, sobbing Where is its sweet song now? Though it be an angry song Yet I love it well. To those that listen with their hearts Its secrets it will tell. —2 marks to Cousin May Heath (12), Danrobin (via Heriot). —Highly Commended.— When dawn treads o’er the purple hill, And softly laughs the winding rill, I see the grasses bathed in dew, The sky of pure yet misty blue, I hear a whispering, though its low, ’Tis the wind, awakening in the trees. When the summer sun shines on us all, And slowly flows the water fall, I love to see the flowers gay, The children, at their merry play, To hear the leaflets rustling so, ’Tis the wind playing in the trees. When starry jewels light the sky, And ghostly shadows pass me by, I like to hear the echoes ringing To watch the many night moths winging To see the world so silent grow, The winds a-slumbering in the trees. —2 marks to Cousin Mabel Wright, (16), Makarewa.