ORIGINAL VERSE

Southland Times, Issue 21856, 5 November 1932, Page 19

ORIGINAL VERSE

In “Spring’s Message” Cousin Connie Jellyman has sent me. one of her finest efforts at verse-making. She is certainly finding fine inspiration in the glorious weather we are having. This poem merits being ranked amongst the finest poems we have published in our page. SPRING’S MESSAGE. The fair green fields remind us, in the sweet and sunny Spring ' Of songs of hope that reach our eprs, from every living thing. We hear them in the morning, and again when comes the night, Their happy voices cheer us, in a chorus of delight. . So why should we be mournful even though the clouds appear. If birds and beasts are full of hope, why should we people fear? The gurgling brooklet whispers as it travels down the vale God’s own sweet certain promise, that the harvest will not fail. 4 —4 marks to Cousin Connie Jellyman (13), Queen Street, Otautau. Cousin Margaret Jellyman’s poem this week reminds me of something I have meant to tell you for some time.’ For years now you have been railing these poems “anagrams,” and I have not corrected you. Indeed, I don u think I’d have noticed now had not a friend asked me why we called them anagrams when they were acrostics! Of course they’re acrostics. Just to make you quite sure, here is the dictionary definition: Acrostic: Poem or other composition in which the initial (single acrostic) the initial and final (double acrostic) or the initial, middle, and final (triple acrostic) letters of the lines make words. An Anagram, on the other hand, is a: transposition of letters of word or phrase, to form new word or phrase (and I call to mind the classic example we learnt at school—“astronomers” and its anagram “moon-starers.”) After this little lesson, my dears—may I add that “Summer Sunshine” is a particularly good acrostic. SUMMER SUNSHINE. Sunshine bright and a breeze so light Under the summer sky; Music sweet in the radiant heat, Made by the birds on high. Every field with a rich, green yield Roses in bloom nearby. Shady nook by a babbling brook Under the willows’ shade Nestling there far away from care Summer! Oh, do not fade. Happy hours with the lovely flow’rs In this, our own fair clime, Nest and rest when the sun goes west Evening in Summer-time. —4 marks to Cousin Margaret Jellyman (12), Queen street, Otautau. Cousin Chrissie Ross’ poem on “Willows” flows very rhythmically and surely—a good example of this cousin’s developing skill. WILLOWS. In old-world courtesy they stand, While at their feet dark waters flow In moving pools. Weird patterns traced in golden strand That flows from sunset’s molten spools. Gracious ladies languishing, Spreading their mantles, fair and frail; Down in the ebony mystic depths, Their tapering fingers trail. Now drifting through the scented air, Passes a mystic hymn. Then as darkness shrouds the world Night falls, soft and dim. —4 marks to Cousin'Chrissie Ross (13), Stafford street, Dunedin. Cousin Vincente Brown has proved herself on one or two occasions in the past an adept at light-fingered “topical” rhymes, with a sure sense of rhythm. "Wondering,” for all its directness and lightness, is in a more serious vein, and is an improvement of this cousin’s previous work. I hope there will be a lot more to follow.

‘ WONDERING. 4 One perfect day in Summer I lay dreamily at rest, In the coolest, shady arbour I could find; When the droning of an aeroplane Fast climbing overhead, Caused endless questions coursing through my mind. I wondered if this world appeared In round or oval form, And if ’twas dressed in green or russet hue; Or if it seemed a vaporizing, Steamy, cloudy mass To that ascending aviator’s view. I wondered if that aeroplane, That graceful-looking bird Now soaring on so peacefully in space, Had ever hurled explosives In the great but cruel war, And if its wartime pilot was an Ace. I wondered if disarmament Would ever be the means Of causing death-devising schemes to cease, Or if those gifts of genius Would now be commandeered To help ensure an everlasting peace. I wondered if the time would come . When harmony prevailed, And man, the whole world o’er, called man his brother, I wondered—but ’twill never be Until we one and all Are merciful, and just to one another. 4 marks to Cousin Vincente Brown (14), Ocean Beach. Cousin Evelyn Cameron enters these columns with more than a little promise. She has ideas which more skill at verse-making should prove very interesting. In the first verse she uses “glides” twice—that is not a rhyme; in the second, "winds” and “twines” do not rhyme. THE MOON. The moon is a lady stately and fair That slowly winds her way Up the star-studded stair. This way and that way She peeps and she glides This way and that way She weeps and she glides. Round a silvery feathery cloud She slyly winds a death-like shroud Till after endless time She lets her lacy veil Fall and float .... This way and that way She weeps and she winds, This way and that way She sweeps and she twines. —1 mark to Cousin Evelyn Cameron (12), 13 Bann street, Bluff. Here’s another first poem, from a stiff younger cousin: "Faithful Doggie” is a very good first attempt, which I hope Cousin Marian Symon will follow up very soon with more. FAITHFUL DOGGIE. When Hilda lost her way, She then began to cry, But her doggie did not understand And tried to ask her why. If only she had trusted him, For he knew his way quite well, • > But was trying all the time, His very best to tell. • —1 mark to Cousin Marian Symon, (11), 171 Elies Road, Invercargill.