OUR POETRY

Taranaki Daily News, 13 October 1934, Page 21 (Supplement)

OUR POETRY

APPLE BLOSSOMS. (Sent by Dicky Boy). Oh, apple-tree I kind apple-tree 1 Pray tell us, if you know, How many days and weeks must pass Before your apples grow ? And when they’re big and ripe and sweet, Some red, some russet brown, Please ask the wind, good apple-tree, To come and shake them down. —L. Haskell. TIME TO GET UP. (Sent by Barbara Jury). “It's time to get up!” crows the old black cock, As he stands on the garden wall; And I wake from my dream and rub my eyes Then back to old cockie I call, . “I s’pose you are right, Yes, I s’pose you are right, But I don’t want to get up at all!” THE SEASONS. (Sent by Belle Kilpatrick). Sing hey! sing ho ! for a misty morn in spring When cobwebs gemmed with star-dust to all the hedgerows cling; When woods are blue-bell carpeted, and meadows cowslip bright— Oh tarry with me, springtime, my love and heart’s delight! Sing hey! sing ho! for a drowsy summer noon, The lazy hum of honey-bees, the pigeons’ sleepy croon, A sea of lapis flecked with gold, a sapphire sky above— Oh linger with me, summer, my one and only love! Sing hey! sing ho! for the gallant autumn 1 days, The maples’ flaming crimson, the beeches’ fiery blaze, The burnish on a pheasant’s breast, the orange harvest moon— Oh, autumn, stay a little, you leave me all too soon. Sing bey! sing ho ! for a frosty winter night When every blade’s a-glitter and stars are crystal t%hite, When all the trees, like northern queens, in ermine robes are dressed — Oh, don’t forsake me, winter; ’tis you I love the best! MOUNTAIN, AIR. (Sent by Reta Tamaka). Tell me of progress if you will But give me sunshine on a hill— The grey rocks spiring to t&e blue, The scent of larches, pinks and dew, And the summer sighing in the trees And snowy breath on every breeze. Take towns and all that you’ll find there, * But give me sunshine and mountain air. PLAYING WITH FAIRIES. When I play with Fairies All of us are wee; I’m the size that they are, 1 hey’re the size of me; Sometimes we wear dresses Lent us by the flowers, Sometimes carry toadstools, Just in case of showers. Often we go flying, Me as well as they; • We- have flying races With the birds to-day, And we takfe our toadstools— Not because of rain, But to parachute us Safely, down again. Sometimes we run races Round inside the house; Once we nearly frightened A sweet baby-mouse; But we had told him It was only fun He joined in the races, And oh, how he could run! BY THE BROOK. (Sent by Betty Stockwell.) Up in the air the wild birds fly, Happy and swift and free. In the green fields the sheep and cows Browse ’neath the shady tree. Over the stream, now here, now there, Dart dragonflies to and fro, While down in the depths so dark and cool The silvery fishes go. IF I WERE AN APPLE. (Sent by Percy Johnson.) If I were an apple And grew on a tree I think I’d drop down On a nice boy like me. I wouldn’t stay there Giving nobody joy; I’d fall down at once And say, “Eat me, my boy!” THE REASON WHY. (Sent by Muriel Manning). Miranda Jane’s a funny doll— She’s proud as proud can be; Unless I wear my nice white hat She won’t go out with me. When mummy says, “You’d better take Your brown one, dear, to-day.” I cry, “Oh, that will never do, For what would dolly say.” It’s not that I like pretty things, Or hate my old brown hat, But I’m quite sure Miranda Jane Would faint at sight of that! So when we take our walks abroad, Miranda Jane and me, I always wear my nice white hat (It suits me best you see !) THE MOONBEAMS. (Sent by Veda Garcia.) One night - little moonbeam Crept into my room, And;brushed away the darkness With a silver broom. Then softer, than a snowflake, Or a bird in flight, It stole out through the window Far into the night. I’VE SEEN HER. (Sent by R-: Simpson.) I’ve seen her, I’ve seen her, Beneath an apple tree; The minute that I saw her there, With stars and dewdrops in her hair I knew it must be she.

She’s sitting on a ciragonfly All shini g green and gold; The dragonfly goes circling round A little way above the ground— She isn’t taking hold. I've cn I’ve seen her! I never, never knew That anything could be so sweet; She has the tiniest hands,and feet; Her wings are very blue. She holds her little head like this, Because she is a Queen; I can’t describe he • all in words She's throwin kisse e to the birds And laughing in between. I’ve seen her, I’ve seen her! I simply ran /-"-’ ran; Put down your sewing quickly, please; Let’s hui-y to the apple trees As -f" we can. I had to go and leave her there, I felt I couldn’t stay, I. wanted you to see her- too, But oh, whatever shall we do ( If she has flown away?,