OUR POETRY

Taranaki Daily News, 10 February 1934, Page 21 (Supplement)

OUR POETRY

PIXY PIK. Up and down the forest Swift as thought he goes, Pixy Pik, the Postman, Elf the whole wood knows. “Pixy come I” “Pixy go !” Echoes all the day. Through the dark and secret trees Fast he wings away. Wears a crimson jerkin, And’a cap of green; Pointed shoes of scarlet, Smartest ever seen I Wings upon his shoulder Take him everywhere With his bag of fairy mail, Which he holds with care. Pixy . Pik, the Postman, See him come and go; Elves all love to meet him, He’s their friend, they know. Every bird and beastie Speeds him on his way...... If you’re very good, my dears, You’ll see him—one day! ■ FRIENDS. (Sent by Joyce Kemp.) If nobody smiled, and nobody cheered, And nobody helped us along; If each minute looked after himself, And the good things all went to the strong; If nobody cared just a little for you, And nobody thought about me; And we stood all alone in the battle of life, What a dreary old world it would be. Life is sweet because of the friends we have made, And the things which in common we share, We want to live on, not because of ourselves, But because of the people who care, It’s giving and doing for somebody else— On that all life’s splendour depends; And the joy of the world when it’s all added up Is found in the making of friends. TEDDY BEAR AT SCHOOL. (Sent by Violet Close.) I took my Teddy Bear to school With me the other day, But Teacher put him on the shelf And hid him quite away. I nearly cried —just fancy that. (I saw the others smile) For I had told, my Teddy Bear I’d nurse him all the while. I- meant to teach him ABC, And how to count as well; I’m over five years old, you know, And I can read and spell. I took my Teddy Bear to school, (I only took him once) He never learned a single thing He’s such a shocking dunce. Ah well, it doesn t matter-much,. I don’t suppose he’ll care; It may be school is.not the. place To take my Teddy Bear. RAINBOW GOLD. (Sent by Alma Heal.) I saw it through the window pane, I saw it touch the apple tree; A shining rainbow in the rain, It shone and beckoned me! Then down the garden path I raced, Nor minded wind nor cold; For well I knew that I would get That rainbow’s pot of gold I . .. But when I reached the apple tree The bow had left the ground And all the gold that I could see Was wet leaves in a mound ; TO TINKERBELL. By Margaret. Jennings (original.) Tinkerbell’s favourite colour is blue, Blue of every shade and Her wings they sparkle like morning dew, .... , n Above her gown of delphinium blue. CATS! (Sent by Joyce Nielson). When master mentions “cats!” I sit up • straight . And quickly bblt my bone, ana never wait To chase them down the path ana through the gate. Cats! They can’t leave anything alone One day I found one looking at my bone! ' ' , „ , Cheek! Be off I barked, and find one of your own! But mistress thinks it isn’t right at all To chase the cats-she says I’ve got a Why can’t I chase it up and down the hall ? And if she makes me lie upon the floor I hear the cats go walking past the door? • Pooh! If. cats are not to chase what are they for? ROSY APPLES. (Sent by Alec Close.) Rosy apples in the tree, One for you and one for me, One for Jessamy, one for Jane, And one for all of us oyer again. THE OPEN WINDOW. (Sent by Eileen Burkitt) The old house by the lindens, Stood silent in the shade, And on the gravelled pathway, The light and shadow played. I saw the nursery windows, Wide open to the air, But the faces of the children, They were no longer there. The large Newfoundland house-dog, Was standing- by the door, He looked for his little playmates, Who would return no more. They walked not under the lindens, They played not in the hall, But, shadow, silence, and sadness, Was hanging over all. And the boy who walked beside me, He could not understand, Why closer, in mine—Ah ! closer, I pressed his warm soft hand. BUZZ, MY CAT. (Sent by, Irene Saywell.) When l am married, Buzz my cat, With a house that’s all my own 7ou shall come with me, Buzz, my cat, And we’ll live quite alone. Then you shall sleep In the drawing-room; And you shall claw the chairs; And when you like .I’ll let you leave Your mouses on the stairs. When I am married, Buzz, my cat, With saucepans of my own, I’ll cook some fishes, Buzz, my cat, And take out every bone; And you shall eat In the drawing-room, And no one shall say “Shoo !” Oh, Buzz, my cat, What golden days Lie still in front of you!