THINGS OF GLEE

Timaru Herald, Volume CL, Issue 22043, 16 August 1941, Page 9

THINGS OF GLEE

What things of glee I can behold; Sweet whispering May The milky way, The lambs in fold, The budding tree. All these are mine, And more by far Than I can tell; Primrose, bluebell, The Evening star And candleshine. And waggon-loads, And men at plough, Rivers and ricks; And beams on sticks; The orchard bough, And bams and roads. The honey bee, The bumble kind, And clouds at rest; The bird, the nest— All these I find Are things of glee. (Sent by Mary Mclntyre, age 13.) PEAT BOGS Peat bogs are soft and dangerous and are best seen in the distance. Most peat bogs are in Ireland, though of course there are peat bogs in other countries. They cause a lot of damage as animals, and sometimes people, get stuck in them. When they become solid they are very useful, as peat makes very good fires for cold winter days. Thi peat is cut up and put into sacks, just like coal. (3 Marks to James Gilmore, age 9.) RIDDLE-ME-REE —— 1 G My first is in armlet, but not in ring. My second is in rope, but not in string. My third is in pole, but not in stake. My fourth is in pool and also in lake. My fifth is in houses and also in streets. My whole is something that everyone eats. Answer, Apple. (Sent by Shirley Jack, age 11.) OLD MRS THREADGOLD Old Mrs Threadgold has a shop Where everybody goes; She’s cards of hooks and paper books And tins of sweets in rows. And then as well, a tinkly bell With such a merry din. And you should see her smile at me When Jack and I come in. Old Mrs Threadgold doesn't know But, when I’m old and grey I’ll keep shop too, that’s what I'll do In just her. very way. And I’ll sell books and cards of hooks And everything, you'll see And smile each day, in just her way, At little folks like me. THE SUNSET GARDEN I can see from the window a little brown house, And the garden goes up to the top of the hill, And the sun comes each day, And slips down away At the end pf the garden and sleeps there . . . until The daylight comes climbing up over the hill. I do wish I lived in the little brown house Then at night I’d go out to the garden, an’creep Up . . . up . . . then I’d stop An' lean over the top, At the end of the garden, an' so I could peep, And see what the sun looks like when it’s asleep. ON THE HDARTHBUG “Little tongues of red-brown flame, Whither go you?” ’‘Whence I came; Sending on a courier spark To explore the chimney dark. "Once I was a sunbeam fair, Darting thro’ the awakened air. Quickly to a green leaf gone, On a forest tree I shone. “Steely lightning struck the bough, And I sank into a slough. Many ages there I lay, Ere I saw the All-Father, Day. "Now I sparkle once again, Flashing light and warmth to men, Ere, like all things that are bright, I rejoin the All-Mother, Night.” YELLOW WITH AGE . You may have noticed that old things, especially paper, are inclined to turn yellow with age. Now, why should many things take a yellow hire? It all depends upon the substances contained in them for the yellow colour is the direct result of a chemical change of the original colouring matter. Thus the yellow is produced chemically from the substances which the things contained, and in most cases where yellow old age is expressed it is found that the substances are largely composed of vegetable matter.