OUR POETRY

Taranaki Daily News, 31 March 1934, Page 21 (Supplement)

OUR POETRY

TWO MAIDS. (Sent by Authle Perry.) Two maids, of Far-away and LongWith’ hair like night, o’ershadowing brows of snow; The first brings roses red as frosty eaves, , . . The second has a lyre and fallen leaves* “Be glad of youth," they cry, “Enjoy the day’’— These maids of Long-ago and Faraway. THE MOUSE AND THE CANDLE. When all was still inside the house, There came a little Robber Mouse. “Just what I want!” he said. Dear How’ thoughtless people seem to be ’ When folks leave candle-ends about They ought, I think, to blow them out!” MAPS. (Sent by Zeta Lowe.) Pam and John and Jennifer are home from the sea, White below the waistline to far above the knee, . Brown above the waist and brown below the thigh, Unless you count the colours left on John’s black eye; Unless you count the colour—a sort of pinky red— Of Pam’s cut ankle (and my goodness how it bled); ; Unless you count the shingle; there s a lot left still In Jen's scarred knee, and she says she hopes it will

Stay there for ever For ever and a day. Jen hopes it never ' Will quite go away; It helps her to remember The sea, you understand, And even in the winter ' She’ll show an inch of sand ! Now every night at bath-time Pam and Jen and John Sing a song of sea scars while taps: are running on—- “ That was where the crab nipped I" and “That was what I did “The day when we were climbing and •■the whole cliff.slid.” . “That is where I stumbled down right 1 underneath-the pier !■ And ! '“That ought to stay there quite another year!” Some may go exploring and mark maps to show The spots they’ve been to, but other people know Maps may be handy, But scars can remind Of days wet and sandy And shores left behind; They help them to remember The place where they would be, And even in mid-winter They’ll conjure up the sea. LOST TIME. (Sent by Mati McKay.) Timothy took his time to school— Plenty of time he took; But some he lost in the tadpole pool, And some in the stickleback brook, Ever so much in the linnet’s nest, And more on the five-barred gate— Timothy took his time to school, But he lost it all, and was late. Timothy has a lot to do— How shall it all be done? Why, he didn’t reach' home till close on two, Though he might have been back by one, There are sums, and writing, and spelling, too, And an apple-tree to climb: Timothy has a lot to do— How shall he find the time ? Timothy sought it high and low: He looked in the tadpole pool To see if they’d taken the time to grow That he lost-on the way to school. He found the nest and he found the tree, And he found the gate he’d crossed, But Timothy never will find (ah me I) The time that Timothy lost. DESERTED. (Sent by Jack Walsh.) The old'house leans upon a tree Like some old man upon a staff The night wind in its ancient porch Sounds like a hollow laugh. The heaven is wrapped' in flying clouds . . As grandeur cloaks itself in grey; The starlight flitting in and out Glints like a-lantern ray. THE SHOE SHOP. (Sent by Merle Druce.) Miss Beetle kept a shoe shop, Inside a hollow oak; Her customers were pixies, And other little folk. So many shoes and slippers, She kept within her store. There were tiny weeny boxes From the ceiling to the floor. There were shoes for Daddy Longlegs A funny shape indeed. And a box of quite a hundred For Sammy Centipede. There were party shoes for fieldmice, In ones and twos and threes, And country boots for hedgehogs, And garden boots for- bees. But, right up on the top shelf Hidden out of sight, She kept the magic slipper, That fairies use at night. With toes and heels of moonlight And buttons made of dew, Oh, how I’d love to see them, And buy them, wouldn’t you ? A SHORT SWEET TALE. (Sent by Nola Gray.) Peter Pratt was so very, very fat, A fat, fat boy was Peter, He washed his face in a sugar basin To make his manners sweeter; He thought it funny to swallow honey, And treacle he loved to lick. Hark! what a warning !... .one dreadful morning He changed into a sugar stick.