ORIGINAL VERSE

Southland Times, Issue 20664, 20 April 1929, Page 22

ORIGINAL VERSE

The Page is going to be so full this week, Cousins, that I’m afraid I’ll have to omit some of the poems sent in unless I put them all one after the other and refrain from comment, which always takes up so much room. I’ll try, anyway, and see what happens. I just want to say how pleased I am so many more of you are trying, and I hope you keep this up. More, I want to tell you how proud I am of Cousin Peter Ferguson’s poem, a particularly fine piece of work. Here’s a Cousin who is learning to think! And to Cousin James Fortune I say “Thank you.” SUNSET. The sun is sinking slowly in the western sky, The clouds of grey are tingeing now with red, And all is stillness at the parting of the sun; For with it goes the light; and day is dead. Again the scarlet lining turns to grey, The last remains of day in haste depart; Black night begins to throw her cloak around: The, day is gone—and of our lives a part. —4 marks to Cousin Peter Ferguson (14), Underwood. A BELLBIRD’S SONG. From the waning twilight in the distant sky Came the haunting echo of a bellbird's cry. Then the willows, bending, seemed to catch that strain, And the rushing river sang it o'er again. While*the darkness hovered and the wild wind slept, And a soft sweet slumber o'er the land then crept; Still I heard*!? softly in the still night air And the sweet strains followed almost everywhere. When the night is stilly and the sky deep blue, And the trees are shining with a silver hue, Then I hear the echo strangely in the night— Like a memory wakening into moonbeam light 4 marks to Cousin Annie Williamson (14), Lanark Street, Mosgiel. SUNSET RED AND THISTLE-DOWN. A ball of flame behind the hills With lovely colour the sky fills. Pink tints, orange, red and brown, Sunset red and thistle-down. The breezes flutter fresh and cool, Quiet lies the shadowy pool. And in and out the shadows brown, Fly sunset red and thistle-down. Slowly fades the glow of red, All is still now overhead. Quiet behind the far hills brown, Sleep sunset red and thistle-down. —3 marks to Cousin Jean Playfair (15), “Bonniefield,” Gummies, Bush. TOMMY. Tommy was a fat boy, With round and rosy cheek; But, oh! Tommy was so greedy And grew greedier every week. He stole gooseberries from the garden, Whether ripe or green, And he crept into the storeroom. When he. thought he wasn’t seen. But one day he was sorry, As he finished a mid-day raid, His father’s stick did hurt him As the penalty he paid! —3 marks to Cousin Jeannie Braid (12), Lumsden. SPRING. Oh! I love best the joyous Spring, With flowers, buds, and leaves to bring; When chirping birds are on the wing, And fresh and young is everything. The saucy, golden buttercup, The modest, little violet blue, The crocus, too, is springing up; These make a show of every hue. The wood a pretty scene doth make, The trees fro-m dreams so dull awake; The water sparkles on the lake Where rippling, dancing, curled waves break. Oh! I love best the joyous Spring, Where often lingers rosy dawn, And birdie heralds sweetly sing, Above the, green and grassy lawn. —3 marks to Cousin Hazel Stewart (14), 270 Ythan Street, Invercargill. A CHILD’S DREAM OF PLEASURE. Tm going on a journey To a valley far away, And I’ll take my dolly- with me, For there I mean to stay. Where the flowers are always blooming, And the sun doth always shine, I am going to that valley; Oh, my! won’t that be fine. The secrets of that valley Won’t be hard to learn, For the little birds are whistling them From the tali trees and the fern. I will sit beneath their branches And I’ll listen all the day, For in that magic valley I always mean to stay. You can come to that far valley If always good you’ll be, And never once be naughty Or cruelly stern to me. And there we’ll e’er be happy, For all the days are fine. You can lend me your dolly And I will lend you mine. —3 marks to Cousin Elsie Amos (15), Invercargill-Glencoe R.D. MELLOW AUTUMN. Summer’s glories now have faded, Mellow Autumn’s here once more, Nature’s dress of gold and crimson Decks the trees from shore to shore. Over all the earth of sorrow, Gladness fills each heart, again, By the bright sun’s constant shining Here to take the place of rain. Flowers and trees are all united In mellow Autumn’s golden chain. Tinted with her wand of crimson, All her beauty people claim. 2 marks to Cousin Barbara Adamson (13), 46 Morton Road, Georgetown. “COUSIN BETTY.” We girls and boys of Southland fair Own a treasure, true and rare, Our work she criticises, censors too, And shows- us exactly what we should do. / Cousin Betty, it’s up to us to confess We honour and love you none the less, Your patience and courage is sorely tried, And yet to your colours you still abide. So now let us join with a right good will And try each one some place to fill, At work or play to do it right, To please Cousin Betty with all our might. In success or failure, in whatever-we do, Your advice is given and encouragement too. So let's give honour where honour is due, For, Cousin Betty, it belongs entirely to you. —2 marks to Cousin James Fortune (11), Home Street, W’inton.