ORIGINAL VERSE

Southland Times, Issue 20615, 13 October 1928, Page 22 (Supplement)

ORIGINAL VERSE

It is nice to see that Cousin Mabel Wright is really keeping to her promise of keeping up her verse-making, and these two poems I have received from her are both good, setting a higher standard than formerly. She must still watch her punctuation, however, and choose the simplest words —Two Poems.— THE BIRDS’ SONGS. O’er by the rushing stream nearby, Where breezes laugh and softly sigh, A thrush sang of his joy in life, How far away was care and strife ! He sang of the woods, fresh and green And of his home, the fairest seen. Near the feathery clouds of white, A little dot came into sight, A lark, with song so sweet and free, A song of love it was to me. Joyous notes from a cheerful heart, Where peace and content claim a part. High in the budding hawthorn tree, A sparrow chirruped of his glee; He proudly told of his new nest, Of his sweet wife and eggs the best. He told the world that Springtime morn How glad he was that he was born. And now I echo those few words, Just lines and thoughts sung by birds. To see, to live, to breathe sweet air, To gaze on beauty everywhere. —3 marks to Cousin Mabel Wright (16), Makarewa. IT’S BLOSSOM TIME. Sweet blossom time is here again, I see the blossoms everywhere; The bees are buzzing round the trees, While fragrant perfume fills the air. Fair starry eyes of purest white, Shine in the pixies’ woodland dell, Kowhais sway on the river banks, Where echo clear notes like a bell. Along by lanes and meadows green, The early gorse flaunts forth its gold' Broom buds are bursting by the way, * While buttercups gay blooms unfold. The pear tree, like a big snow queen, Throws scented petals to the breeze; The apple blossoms, rosy kissed, With baby winds that flirt and tease. Oh, blossom time’s a merry time, For then the world is bright and gay; Then birdies mate, and sing love songs, And flitting sunbeams woo the day. —4 marks to Cousin Mabel Wright (16), Makarewa. The first of Cousin Elsie Amos’ two poems is written with comparative ease, although this theme, or a similar one, has been used before. The second, while containing better ideas, is less convincing because of a certain unevenness in rhythm. The splitting up of the verb in the second and third lines is bad. In the first poem, “bin” and “him” do not rhyme. —Two Poems.— A HUNGRY RAT. A hungry rat went out one night To see what he could find. He thought perhaps he’d get a crust, Some child had left behind. He poked his wee nose here and there, In every box and bin; He did not know, of course (Not he!) That we’d set a trap for him. All at once he saw some cheese, He thought that it smelt nice, And he said: “Now for my tea, Of that- I’ll have a slice!” He rose up on his two hind legs, And then he made a snap, He did not know, poor foolish thing, That it was but a trap. He smelt the bait, he thought it nice, The trap he never saw, And when he made a snap at it, It caught him round the jaw. —3 marks to Cousin Elsie Amos (15), Mabel Bush. SHADOWS ARE FALLING Shadows are falling across the sea. A faint white mist appears to be Falling, and falling right down to the ground, And hiding everything around. The seagulls are calling across the bay, Calling to me as they fly away, They seem to be saying: “Why don’t you come, too? It is nice o’er the ocean blue.” The stars are twinkling, oh, so high, Blinking at me from a lovely blue sky; Perhaps they are sending a message to me On the tossing waves of the restless sea. Through the misty waves I can see them there, Bright little specks in the sky so fair. —2 marks to Cousin Elsie Amos (15), Mabel Bush. My new Cousin Marjory Hay shows decided originality ana personality m her first poem for me, “September,” which I consider remarkably good. She has chosen both a difficult metre and awkward line lengths; but she has managed exceedingly well, and makes me look forward to further work from her. SEPTEMBER. The boat, “Sunflower,” was bound for England On a rough and stormy sea, And the cargo she carried was from New Zealand, To be borne across the deep, blue sea. She left the port of Auckland To sail for her own Homeland, And bring back her exports to our country That we use on sea and land. The people below in the cabins Began to shiver and freeze, At the thought of spending the night On those rough and stormy seas. —2 marks to Cousin Marjorie Hay (12), 82 McMaster Street, Invercargill.