OUR POETRY

Taranaki Daily News, 8 September 1934, Page 21 (Supplement)

OUR POETRY

PUSSY WILLOW. (Sent by Rex Woodley). Little Pussy-willow Budding on the tree, When we see your furry coat Blyth and gay are we. For we know that spring is here When you first appear, Know that soon the bluebird's call Joyfully we’ll hear. DAFFODIL. (Sent by Dorothy Ure). Who passes down the wintry street ? • Hey, ho, daffodil! A sudden flame of gold and sweet, With sword of emerald girt so meet, And golden gay from head to feet. How are you here this wintry day ? Hey, ho, daffodil! Your radiant fellows yet delay; No wind-flower dances scarlet gay, Nor crocus-flame lights up the way. What land of cloth o’ gold and green, Hey, ho, daffodil! Cloth o’ gold with the green between, Was that you left but yestere’en To light a gloomy world and mean? King trumpter to Flora Queen, Hey, ho, daffodil! Blow, and the golden jousts begin. Hey, ho, daffodil! SPRING. (Sent by Tinker Bell). Tire mists have unfurled from the hilltops ■ The sun in the valleys below Has wakened the world from its slumber, Has called it to life with its glow. The air is a-quiver with magic,

All nature is joyous and gay; The gems on the shivering cobwebs Are glistening in brilliant display. But what is this feeling of gladness, This magic that stirs in the air ? The breezes have whispered the answer — ’Tis the spirit of spring that is here. LADY SPRING. (Sent by Eileen Hamilton). Laughing spring is here again, Sweet with showers of silver ram, Leaving violets as she passes Tiptoe through the waving grasses. Daffodils are golden bright Snowdrops dream in drifting white, While the tui sings in praise Of springtime and her. fragrant ways. ;. Daphne dwells in scented places; Pansies with their sleepy faces Watch the Lady Spring dance by; As joyously the bellbirds cry. A THRUSH’S SONG. , (Sent by Frances Squness). A thrush sat on a lilac tree And trilled a springtime song to. me. “Look up,” he sang, “the spring is here, The sky is fresh and blue and clear. Look down,” he sang, “the flowers are bright, , ' The ground is gold and blue and white. Look round,” he sang, “the buds are through, The trees are fair and green and new. Listen,” he sang, “the tune I sing Is full and sweet, for it is spring.” THE RAINBOW. (Sent by Desmond Corbett). Two little clouds one summer’s day, Went sailing ,in the sky. They went so fast, they bumped their heads And both began to cry. Old Father Sun peeped out and smiled, Oh, never mind ! my dears, I’ll send my little fairy folk, . To wipe- away the tears. One fairy came dressed all in red, And one in orange bright, Yellow, green, blue, violet, They were a pretty sight, They wiped the clouds* tears all away, And then against the sky, Upon the line the sunbeams made, They hung their gowns to dry. PEACOCKS. (Sent by Nola Brown). Peacocks sweep the fairies’ rooms; They use their folded tails for brooms; But fairy dust is brighter far Than any mortal colours are, And all about their tails it clings, In strange designs of rounds and rings And that is why they strut about. And proudly spread their feathers. THE WIRE FENCE. (Sent by Melva Reynolds). Round about our garden Runs a strand of wire That glows like burnished silver In the sunset fire, And when rain is hanging Jewels on the weeds Our fence looks like a necklace Strung with crystal beads. THE WILD-WOOD STRAIN. (Sent by Olive Hansen). There is no rhyme that is half so sweet As the song of the wind in the rippling wheat; There is no metre that’s-half so fine As the lilt of the brook under rock and pine, , , And the loveliest lyric I ever heard ; Was the wild-wood strain of the forest bird. PUZZLED PURRKINS. (Sent by Daphne Cunningham). Purrkins kept a Lollipop Store, Two little kits bounced in at the door, They had three farthings, and no more And this is what they asked him for:— A farthingsworth of Penny White Mice; A farthing taste of a Sixpenny Ice; And a farthingsworth of halfpenny Buns— And please, they’re not to be last week's ones. —W. Gurney Benham.