OUR POETRY
BESIDE THE SEA. (Sent by Kathleen Copeman). A dreadful quarrel I did see Upon the sand beside the sea, When Charlie Crab pinched Freddie Frog And threw his spade at Toby Dog. He trampled on their nice sand pics And took no heed of all their cries, And then, before they’d time to speak, He rushed back in the sea, the sneak! MY TABLES. (Sent by Betty West). I puzzled my tables over and over, And backward and forward too, And I couldn’t remember six times nine, So I didn’t know what to do: Until sister told me to play with my doll And not to bother my head, “If you call your doll ‘fifty-four’ for awhile, You’ll learn it by heart,” she said. So I took my favourite Mary Ann, Though I thought it a dreadful shame To call such a perfectly lovely doll Such a perfectly horrible name. But I called her my dear little fiftyfour A hundred times—till I knew The answer to six times nine—as well As the answer to two times two. Next day Elizabeth Wigglesworth, Who always acts so proud, Said six times nine was FIFTY-TWO, And I nearly laughed out loud. But I wished I hadn’t, when Teacher said, “Now, Marjorie, guess if you can.” And I thought of my dolly, and so 1 said, “Six times nine is Mary Ann!” WE TWO. (Sent by Isabella Burkhart). We two were fragile little chaps; With caution to be handled; Our owner brought us from the store Within a basket dangled; And all the way we trembled s 6, We were in fear of breaking, For on the wobbly motor-bus We got a dreadful shaking. And though we safely landed home, Our fate will make you shiver! Our owner fried us in a pan With sausage, ham, and .liver! We could not run to save our lives, Because we had no legs; Oh, dear! I quite forgot to say We tvVo were new-laid eggs! THE POSTMAN. (Sent by Eileen Morgan). I’d like to be a postman, To go upon long tramps With lots of birthday parcels, And cards with foreign stamps; With envelopes all Sizes Inside my bag each day, And packs of tied-up letters To sort upon my way. TO AN ABSENT LOVED ONE. (Sent by Ruby Allen). My garden’s lost its beauty, sweet, My fountain’s ceased to play, My sky has lost its perfect blue, Now that you have gone away. My pansies’ grace has turned to scorn, My birds have ceased to sing, My lawns in dew-clad summer gown, No joy, no gladness bring. I’ve tried alone to find it, dear, I’ve searched in tree and ground, I’ve tried alone to find the piece— The beauty that we found. But useless have my searchings been, My efforts all in vain, My garden’s lost its beauty, sweet, Till you come back again. THE ROCK-A-BYE LADY. (Sent by Joyce McEwen). The Rock-a-Bye lady from Hush-a-bye Street • Comes stealing, comes creeping; The poppies they hang from her head to her. feet, And each hath a dream that is tiny and fleet. She bringeth her poppies to you, my sweet, When she findeth you sleeping. THE TWO RABBITS. (Sent by the Hut Twins), There was once a rabbit with silver fur; Her little grey neighbours looked at her, Till she thought with pride in the moonlit wood, “The reason I’m white is because I’m good.” “Oh! what shall I do?” cried a tiny mole; “A fairy has tumbled into a hole; It is full of water and crawling things, And she can’t get out, for she’s hurt her wings. “I did my best to catch hold of her hair, But my arms are short and she’s still in there. Oh, darling white rabbit, your arms are long, You say you’re good and ,1 know you are strong.” “Don’t tell me about it,” the rabbit said; She shut up her eyes and her ears grew red, “There’s lots of mud and it’s sure to stick, Because my fur is so long and thick.’ “There’s plenty of water,” the wee mole cried; “There are shining rivers from moorland Wide, Dew from the sky and the dear grey rain, And the fairy to kiss you white again.” “Oh dear, oh dear,” sobbed the poor little mole, “Who will help the fairy out of the hole?” A common grey rabbit popped out of the gorse, “I’m not very strong, but I’ll try, of course.” His little tail bobbed as he waded in, The muddy water came Up to his chin; But he caught the fairy tight by the hand, ... And sent her off safely to Fairy-land. But she kissed him first on his muddy nose, She kissed his feet, and his little wet toes; And when the day dawned in the early light, The little grey rabbit was shining white. GOLLIWOG. (Sent by Baby Margaret). I went a walk with Golly, Where funny toadstools grew, When suddenly about us Three pretty fairies flew. They each caught hold of Golly, And when I tried to hold him, They clutched him, hand and toe, He cried, “Do let me go!” Those fairies changed my Golly Into a fairy prince, They flew with him to fairy-land— « I haven’t seen him sincel
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/TDN19350223.2.68.67.14
Bibliographic details
Taranaki Daily News, 23 February 1935, Page 21 (Supplement)
Word Count
880OUR POETRY Taranaki Daily News, 23 February 1935, Page 21 (Supplement)
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