OUR POETRY

Taranaki Daily News, 28 September 1929, Page 24 (Supplement)

OUR POETRY

I KNOW. (Sent by Alice Bi.-hrll.' I know it's so, That the brownies butler every buttercup; Bui who do you think that pump the pumpkins up! PLAYTIME IN FAIRYLAND. (Sen! by Jean Riteliie.) If you hide in the woods when the night, winds sigh, And the man in (he moon smiles down from the sky, When the. night moths are flittering. And the sleepy birds twittering, There’s a sight to be seen if you have a oharp eye.. Wee doorway* pop open in al] the big trees, And from them in dozen* the fairy folk squeeze. With their silvery dresses, And long golden tresses That flutter and wave a« they dance in the breeze. THE DOLLS’ LAUNDRY, (Sent by Jean Gunson.) I’m very glad to say The sun is shining bright. For. as it"rt washing day. My clothes will dry all right. I pin them on the line With pegs out of a box. Oh dear! these dolls of mine Do soil so many frocks! SOUR GRAPES. (Sent by Noel Cave.) A fox was trotting out one day, And just above his head ’ Ho spied a vine of luscious grapes, Rich ripe, and purple-red. Eager lie tried to snatch the fruit, But, oh! it was too high; Poor Reynard had to give it up ’ And heaving a deep sigh. / He curl’d his nose and said. “Dear me! I would not waste an hour Upon such mean and common fruit I'm stue those grapes are sour!" ’Tis thus we often wish thro’ life, When seeking wealth and pow’r And when we fail, say like the fox We’re sure the; grapes are sour. WHAT A HURRY! (Sent by Mollie Laird.) ‘That horrid pup!” the kittens cry, “At what a pace he’s rushing by, If it's a race he’ll win it.” “I shouldn’t be surprised at that, If, as I think,” says mother cat, "No other dog is ini I!” SPRING SONG. (Sent by Gladys Mawsom) Spring incoming- spring is coming* Birds build your nest, Weave together, straw and feather, Doing each your best. Spring is coming! spring i* coming! Flowers are coming too: Water-lilies, daff-o-dillies, All are coming through! EXPLORING. (Sent by Totty Bell.) When I am more than ten years old I’ll save myself a pot of gold, And hide it underneath my coal And go and buy myself a boat. Half way round the world I’ll track, To seek’the sea that men call Black. And when I reach it I’ll find out The things I want to know about; As whether fish live in the sea, And if they are black, as they should be; How Turkey got its name, and, oh!. Another thing I want to know! If I should bathe in this Black Sea Will I come out so inkily; With such a shiny blackened figure That I’ll be taken for a nigger? They'll call me Pete, the Rover, and They’ll fear my name on every hand Not yet a bit, of course, but -when I an/just a .little more than ten* WHEN DADDY'S SHIP COMES HOME. (Scut by Ellis Harrison.) You wait till Daddy's ship comes home, each day Mum says to me, And then the toys you want will come across the distant sea, I wonder will that nice toy tank I've asked for quite a while, But when I ask big brother Frank, it only makes him smile. But Daddy takes me on his knee, and tells me not to fear; . The ship is on its way say* lie, though very far from hero. Each night 1 go to bed and dream of all that ship contains, A pony, p’rhaps, that’s coloured cream, Ami lot* and. lots of railway trains. A bio- gun that really shoots, a scooter and a bike, And heaps and heaps of candied fruits, the nicest- sort I like. I hope that ship will come at night when I am fast asleep. Anil when I wake at morning .light, downstairs gently creep. I’ll And those toys awaiting me. all spick and span and new, And oh how happy I shall be to find my dreams come true. But ship*. I know, are sometimes slow, And this one has so far to go before if; readies me. But someday it is bound to come, with bio 1 white sails unfurled; The°ship that brings my treasures home, Um best ship in the world. Then won’t I have a scrumptious time with Frank and Jack and Win; But Mum. I know, will say its prime When Daddy’s fillip comes home. JOAN IRENE. (Sent by Daisy Higgens.) What’s in a baby? Just a curly black head; Just two laughing dimples; Two checks rosy red. Just two sweetest blue eyes; Lips begging a kiss; Just a life brimming over With innocent bliss. What’s in a baby? Just a dear heart of gold; Just the tiniest handies You ever did hold. Just mother’s adored on 3, Her’s and dad’s own; Just the sweetest of nieces* - And her name Is Joan.