OUR POETRY

Taranaki Daily News, 23 March 1935, Page 21 (Supplement)

OUR POETRY

the elfin piper. (Sent by Beryl Herbert). By the moonbeams’ silver light Tire elfin piper plays at night, Magic music, soft and clear, Which only fairy folk can hear. LONGING. (Sent by Isabella Burkhart). Oh, take me back to the mountain Up the great spurs where the south winds blow, Where the valleys are shielded in silver haze, And the green-white torrents flow. Up where the unshod horses roam, Once more to ride and race them there With hoof-spurned turf, and flying foam. j Dear God, turn back the long, long years Just for a day! NOD. (Sent by Ethel Terrill). Softly along the road of evening, In a twilight dim with rose, Wrinkled with age and drenched with dew, Old Nod the shepherd goes. His drowsy flock, streams on before him, Their fleeces charged with gold, To where the sun’s last beam leans low, On Nod the shepherd's fold. The hedge is quick and green with brier, From their sand the conies creep, And all the birds that fly in heaven, Flock singing home to sleep. His lambs outnumber a noon’s roses, Yet, when night’s shadows fall, His blind old sheep dog, Slumbersoon, Misses not one of all. His are the quiet sleeps of Dreamland, The waters of no more pain, His ram’s bell rings ’neath an arch of stars “Rest, rest and rest again" —Walter de la Mare. SCHOOLBOY BUNNIES. (Sent by Audrey Mitchell). Every day, warm or cool, Little rabbits, go to school. On the way they often stop At the village candy shop. Lettuce-drops and carrot bars Stacked all neatly in tall jars— There is some excuse,. they say, If they loiter on the way. Teacher Bobtail stem,and tall, No excuse will take •at all. Bunnies who are . late for school Must stand bn the Dunce’s stool, There to stay, from ten to one When the morning’s school is done. And the teacher, sad to say, Always takes their sweets away! BUNCHES OF GRAPES. (Sent by Jean Nelson). “Bunches of grapes,” says Timothy, “Pomegranates pink,” says Elaine; “A junket of cream, and a cranberry tart For me,” says Jane. “Love in a mist,” says Timothy; “Pifmroses pale,” says Elaine, “A rosegay of pinks and mignonette For me,” says Jane. “Chariots of gold,” says Timothy; “Silvery wings,” says Elaine; “A bumpity ride in a -waggon of hay For me,” says Jane. WHEN I GO OUT TO SEE THE WORLD (Sent by Joan Brock). When I go out to see the world I like to meet the sun, And watch the daisies wave about Where playful breezes run, But though I travel quite a mile By valley, hill and plain, I love to see my mother’s smile . When I get home again. —John Lea. SHADOWS. (Sent by Eddie Kemp). When the light has been extinguished, And I cuddle down in bed, I can look at all the shadows, On the wall above my head. There are little fairies flittering, And a-dancing in the gloom, With the elfins for their partners, Making havoc in my room. There are carriages and horses, Waiting for them at the door; And a line of soldiers standing, At attention on the floor. Then the dancers seem to vanish, And the voices die away While my shadows change to darkness, With the passing of the day. GRASSHOPPER GREEN. (Sent by Betty Dodds). Grasshopper Green is a comical chap, He lives on the best of fare; Bright little trousers, jacket, and cap, These are his summer wear. Out in the meadow he loves to go, Playing away in the sun; It’s hopperty, skipperty, high and low, Summer’s the time for fun. Grasshopper Green has a quaint little house; It’s under the hedge so gay, Grandmother Spider, as still as a mouse, Watches him over the way. Gladly he’s calling the children, I know, Out in the beautiful sun; . It’s hopperty, skipperty, high and low, Summer’s the time for fun. TUMBLE-DOWN HOUSE. (Sent by Eunice Poulsen). In the woods is a house With a window and door And a chimney you’ll find, But no second floor. It’s a cosy, snug dwelling In a broken dqwn tree And the people who live there Are happy and free. ’Tis the home of the elf, The gnome and the mouse, And the squirrel keeps treasures In tumble-down house. PRACTISING. (Sent by Margaret Hunt).. I really don’t like , ■ ..ctising A little t, do you? , But Miss Jones says I'll never play At all, unless I do. I’d like to broadcast every day, And play before the King, • But Miss Jones says I never shall, Without my practising. Oh, dear, it’s only half-past three— I do hope we have early tea. BUTTERFLIES AND BUMBLE-BEES. (Sent by Desmond Hurley). When butterflies are in a room They do not buzz about and boom, But gently flutter on the pane And then go flying out again. But when a bumble-bee comes in It makes a truly awful din, Buzzing and booming all about Until you have to chasa it out!

A NEW ZEALAND NATIVE BIRD. THE TOMTIT. (Sent by Joan Kirk). A black, beady eye, a jet black glossy head and upper surface, a white splash on the wings and tail, a white spot above the bill, a white waistcoat, a boldness akin to impudence, a constant “where is that grub?” attitude—such is the cock North Island tomtit. Where the male is black the female is grey and her breast is greyish white. Also she is of much more retiring disposition. The cock has a cheery warble of eight notes repeated with little variation at frequent intervals. The hen sings infrequently, and then always in a subdued manner. Both have a penetrating call note “see” repeated three or four times to keep the pair in touch when searching for food. The idea of territory is strongly developed in the tomtit, so much so that a pair of birds seem to spend all their lives in the same area and strongly resent the intrusion of another of the species. Although forty years ago the whitebreasted tit had become very rare, it is now common, not only on the island sanctuaries but also in widely separated places in the North Island. In some places it is the commonest native bird. The clearings still scattered with charred stumps, and the bush-clad foothills, are favourite summer haunts; in winter, in orchards and gardens, it achieves complete independence of native vegetation. Towards the end of August the birds prepare to nest. A hole in a tree is a favourite site, or a mossy recess in a bank, or amongst rocks. Sometimes it is found on a shelf on a large bole, at others in the smaller branches of a low tree. Grass, moss, leaf skeletons, spiderweb, downy seeds, tree-fern scales, and a lining of feathers go to make the cosiest nest in the bush. At this time the two birds are particularly devoted to each other. The female does all the construction work, using material brought by the cock who, in between times, feeds his mate on the choicest of grubs. She is a jealous guardian of the nest and its contents, even feigning lameness or a broken wing to lure the stranger away. Up to four eggs are laid, creamy white in colour and freckled all over with brown specks, thickest near the larger end. Incubation seems the prerogative of the female who leaves the nest to be fed when called by the male. ' When the young are hatched both parents catch food for them. It is then that they frequent paths and clearings in the bush. Occasionally insects are caught on the wing, others are searched for under the bark of trees; but most of the food consists of larvae taken from the ground. The usual attitude is with wings slightly drooped, the tail erect, resting for a moment on a tree trunk or branch. A rapid dart is then made to the ground to pick up the grub. Almost without stopping a return is made to the lookout station, or perhaps to another deemed more favourable. When walking through the bush we can help the tomtits •by dragging a foot to disturb the leaves ■and expose insects. In the open a fence-line provides a perch from which to hunt insects. In the garden use is often made of a spade or rake as a perch to spy out insects on the freshly cultivated ground. Their eyesight is remarkable—grubs or other insects may be seen as. much as forty feet away. This keen eyesight was known to the Maori. “Ma te kanahi miromiro” (for the eye of a tomtit) was said as stimulus to a person seeking a lost article. After leaving the nest the young tomtits are assisted by the parents in catching their food. Then the hen builds again, leaving the cock to supervise the first family until they can look after themselves. —Extract from “Forest and Bird.” iiiiiiiitiniiiiiiiiiiimiHiih'itimiiHiMintnnfiinniiHiiimitiiit RIDDLES AND JOKES. ‘Why is St. Paul’s Cathedral like a bird’s nest:—Because it was built by a Wren (Sir Christopher Wren). (Sent by Molly Davison). When has a boy four hands?—When he doubles his fists. (Sent by Dawn Hills). Why is a newspaper like an army?— Because it has leaders, columns and reviews. When may a chair be said to dislike you?—When it can’t bear you. (Sent by Hazel Brogden). How do bees dispose of their honey?— They “cell” it. (Sent by Margaret Hunt). Where do birds go in cherry time?— To Peckham (peck ’em). (Sent by Desmond Hurley). « * * # TAKING THE RISKS. “Johnnie,” said his doting aunty, holding her nephew close to her, “tell me whom you like best—your father, your mother, or me?” Johnnie squirmed to get away. “I don’t want to tell,” he said, “it’s too near my birthday.” (Sent by Jean Way).