OUR POETRY

Taranaki Daily News, 29 November 1930, Page 20 (Supplement)

OUR POETRY

■‘THE SPIDER.” (Sent by R. J. Gibbs.) The spider weaves his silver wire, Between the cherry and the briar; He runs along and sees the thread Well fastened to each slender head. Then within his wheel he dozes, Hung on a thorny stem of roses, While the fairies ride the silver ferry, Between the briar and the cherry. WONDERFUL. (Sent by Elsie Proud.) I know the world is very large, As people often say, But 1 can think of lots of things A thousand miles away. And sitting on the playroom floor, Or on the hearth-rug curled, My thoughts can travel through the door, And go right round the world. THE OLD KITCHEN CLOCK. (iSent by Nancy Baldwin.) Tick, tock! Dickery dock! What says the voice of the old kitchen clock? Eight it is striking as clear as a bell, Time, dears, for breakfast, you know very well; Fleecy the cloudlets, and golden the sun, Brightly another new day has begun. Tick, tock! Dickery ylock! “Work while you may,” says the old kitchen clock. , Tick, tock! Dickery dock! What says the voice of the old kitchen clock? y Daylight is fading and red glows the west, Birdies have flown to their sheltering nest. ’ Kneel, ere you sleep, at your bedside in prayer, Thank the dear God for His love and His care. . .) . Tick!, tock! Dickery dock! “Time, dears, for rest,” says the old kitchen clock. MR. WIND. ’ ('Sent by Hilda Ruskin.J I’m not having anything more to say, To old Mr. Wind for a very long day. He’s always trying his best to blow, Me out of the way that I'want to go. He drowns my voice till I have to shout, And turns my ’brella the wrong way out; He puts my hat in -a nasty puddle, And gets my hair in a dreadful muddle. • i I’m always wishing to wipe my nose. And up and away my handkerchief goes. . So I’m not having anything- more to say, To old Mr. Wind for a very long day. ISN’T IT QUEER? (Sent by Rena Knox.) Now, isn’t it strange to you, my dear? To me it always seems most queer, That pennies and puppies have both heads and tails, That pianos and fishes have both of them scales. \ . Now isn’t it strange and wonderfull too? ■ t ■ That stories mean fibs, while some stories are true; , That trees and elephants both have big trunks, _• That cowls are headgear .of chimneys and monks. MOTTOS. (Sent by Molly and Ngaire Knox.) The robin has a cheery voice, And the thrush’s mote is sweet, Without the sparrow's chirp our world Would hardly seem complete. But there’s no songster who can sing, No minstrel could invent, The music rising in my heart From the ' songbird called Content. Don’t Ibrood over your troubles, you’ll only hatch some more. ROOM AT THE TOP. Never you mind the crown, lad, Or fancy your life won’t tell! The work is the work for a’ that ’ To him that doeth it well. Fancy the world a hill, lad, Look where the millions stop, You’ll find a crowd at the base, lad, There’s always room at the top. Courage and faith and patience! There’s space in the old world yet. The better the chance you stand, lad, The further along you get. Keep your eyes on the goal, lad, Never despair or drop; Be sure that your path leads upwards, There’s always room at the top. • THE NAUGHTY WIND. (Sent by Eileen Fabish.) Gaily we went for a picnic Down by the deep blue sea. But the naughty wind kept blowing The sand into our tea. The ants got in the sugar, The spiders down our necks, And the naughty wind kept blowing, Till it took poor grandpa’s specs. It took the powder off Flo’s face, , The wave from out Joan’s hair. Yet the naughty wind kept blowing, To our chattering teeth’s despair. So we gathered our lunch baskets, And all packed into “Liz.” For the naughty wind kept blowing, And we blew home, Gee Whiz! THE FAIRY SHOP. (Sent by Joan Kirk.) Have you found the Fairy Shop Hidden in the Glen? There you can buy Gingerpop Brewed by Elfin-men. There you may buy Fairy buns Tasting very nice; > Sugary or plainer ones, Filled with Magic Spice. Did you ask me where it was? Dear me, I forget. P’r’aps I never knew, for No one’s found it yet. SHELL SECRETS. (Sent by Mavis Shaw.) Tell your secrets, pretty shell, I will promise not to tell. Humming, humming, soft and low, Al 1! about the sea, I know. You are murmuring, I think, Of the sea-weeds, green and pink. Of the tiny baby shells, Where the mother mermaid dwells. Pretty shell! I am waiting here, Come and whisper in my ear. QUEER SHOES. (Sent by Mavis Sheerin.) When I go out a-walking, My feet go pitter-pat, I cannot tread so softly As my big pussy cat. She has some little cushions On every foot, you see. If I wore cushions like her, How funny it would be!

THE LADY OF JAPAN. (Sent by Lena White.) There was a lady of Japan, 'Who carried an enormous fan; And when a hurricane there blew. It caught the fan and up she flew. The people watched her out of sight, As up and up, just like a kite, The lady went that afternoon, To pay a visit to the moon. “Man in the moon, I’ve come to tea. “What kind of cake have you,” said she. “My teapot only holds one cup,” He answered as he drank it up. “But in this little silver pot, “I keep my breakfast porridge hot—- “ Plum porridge.”' Then the hurricane Conveyed the lady back again. THE ELEPHANT. (Sent by Tom Coupe.) Here comes the elephant, Swaying along, With his cargo of children, All singing a song. His legs are in leather, And padded his toes, He can root up an oak, ’ With a whisk of his nose. With a wave of his trunk, , And a turn of his chin, He can pull down a house, Or pick up a pin. OUT OF DOORS. (Sent by Charlie Schuler.) I like to find the pretty flowers, That 'bloom among the grass; The daisies and the buttercups, That shine so as I pass. I like to watch the busy bees, Fly in and out the flowers; Just listen to their cheerful hum Between the summer showers! I like to climb a branching pine And find a wee bird’s nest. I count the eggs. I might take one! I always leave the rest. I like the wind. I like to run, And feel it racing by; To shout and throw my arms high up, And very nearly fly. I like the snow—the big .snowflakes, That lie so’ thick and still, With snowball games, and fine snowman, And sliding down the hill. I like to watch the stars shine out, When evening shadows creep, Then birds and flowers, and children too, Go softly to sleep. AUTUMN DAYS. (Sent by Willie Stewart.) The forest leaves are changing From green to russet brown; And ever as the breezes play They softly flutter down. Within the tangled coppice Bright eyes are seen to peer—’Tis Robin Red, whose breezy note Proclaims • the falling year. Now sturdy, sun-browned reapers Go forth—a joyous band — To spread the golden sheaves along The sunny harvest land! ‘ And little Sadie gladly Some busy work would share; Grandfather’s teeming orchard is Her own peculiar care. A ripe and ruddy apple ■She plucks with smiling eyes, And takes it to the cottage home Where crippled Willie lies. Such little kindly giving, Some thoughtful sweet surprise, Can make a life, worth living, And banish countless sighs.