OUR POETRY

Taranaki Daily News, 27 January 1934, Page 19 (Supplement)

OUR POETRY

THE HOLD-UP. (Sent by Bernie Hickey.) When Dad was coming home one night, Out from the shrubbery ran A highwayman, with pistol raised, A darling little man! He wore a mask to hide his face, And in his belt he wore a knife, And called aloud in threatening tones—- “ Your money or your life !” “My money!” Daddy looked alarmed. I fear I haven’t any, < But if you’ll kindly spare my life Perhaps I’ll find a penny 1” His chocolate pistol Jacky dropped, And laughed, “It’s only me!” Then Dad took up the “highway man,” And took him into tea. AT NIGHT. (Sent by Joyce 'Kemp.) My garden in thb daytime is trim as trim can be, But when night comes in his black cloak It’s full oft mystery. For night is a magican who waves a magic wand And casts his strange mysterious spells Over the sea and land. The yew trees and the laurels each hide a grinning sprite, And the sun-dial is an old, old man— He gives me such a fright The sun-flower and the hollyhocks are giants fierce, and tall, I love them in the daytime, But not at night at all. Nurse says that after I’m in bed night hangs out all the stars, And I can see them sometimes between the window bars. But most of all I love 'the Moon, who chases night away. She frightens all the shadows, And makes it light as day. BAKING DAY. (Sent by Molly Morris.) On Saturday, my mother makes Little buns and big round cakes, And I love to come and stir In the great white bowl for her. You should see what she puts in,Soft white flour from the bin; Yellow butter; sugar, toe; Currants, raisins, not a few. When the cakes are in the tins, Then the biggest fun begins;. For the bowl and spoon I take, And scrape them clean of all the cake. SUBMARINE SPORTS. .. (Sent by Olive Browne.) . Tom Turtle has arranged some sports Beneath the briny ocean, And fish in shoals .are rolling up— They seem to like the notion. Some curious competitors ■ ■ Are ready for a race, There’s Charlie Codd and Billie Brill, Same Sole, and Percy Plaice. . Still on they come, old fish and young, Of every kind and'size,- >'?• .’ All filled with zest to do . their best, .. All anxious for a prize. Just as the. race is starting off, An Octopus joins, in, . . With his supply of useful legs, ■/ He thinks he’s sure to win! But he’s a clumsy kind of chap, And causes shouts of laughter, For while the smaller fish swim by, He ambles .slowly after. Then from the crowd a chefer goes up, The ■wanning post is passed, . Young Percy Plaice has won the-race— The Octopus, is last! ■■- WILD FLOWERS. (Sent by Eileen Burkitt.)’ Far away, .far away, • deep. ina. glenj Wild flowers, are blooming, and blowing again. ■ Tall ’mid the grasses,, low. ’neath the trees, Wild flowers are bending their heads to the breeze. . . Once in Arcadia, long, long ago We gathered wild flowers, white as the snow. Sweet sang the throstle, for only he knew That down in the glen I pulled wild flowers with you. Sweet sings the throstle, deep in the glen, Where wild flowers are blooming, and blowing again, Sweet sings the throstle, as tho’ he .still knew That once in the glen I pulled flowers with you. CHICKS. (Sent by Joyce and Allan Hartley.) On the baby’s little fingers Mary puts the chick to stand. “Let me have it too,” says Tommy, “Let me have it on my hand; “Let me feel its little feet,” “Weet!” the chick says, “Weet, weet, weet!” THE SHOWER. (Sent by Mary Davison.) An old gnome went a-walking All on a summer’s day; He put up his umbrella To keep the rain away. Down fell a crow, free-wheeling, And settled overhead, “My! What a very.heavy shower!” The old gnome said. THE SEA GIPSY. (Sent by Ronnie Winstanley). I am fevered with the sunset, I am fretful with the bay,. For the wander-thirst is on me And my soul is in Cathay. There’s a schooner in the offing, With her topsails shot with fire, And my heart has gone aboard her For the Islands of Desire. '. I must forth again to-morrow; With the sunset I must be— Hull down on the trail of rapture In the wonder of the sea. —Bliss Carman. THE RAINDROPS. “I’m not going to fall to the earth to-day,” A cross little rain-drop said. “I don’t see why I should work so hard; To-day I shall play instead.” Now all the other small rain-drops heard What the cross little drop did say, And they all 'decided they would not fall From the clouds on that summer day. The sun shone fiercely down all day Like a fire in the clear blue sky, No clouds gave shade and the flowers drooped, While the pools and the streams grew dry. “Oh, come little rain-drops,” all Nature cried, “Oh, come, for we wither and die!” And the drops repented in time, and fell Soft and cool from the cloudy sky.