BEGINNING TO WHINE.
■ ill ■ Oh wel', it's come at last! Summer is past. Tho joy has left the year, And winter's hero. Ono night, the cold wind blew— Next day it srew! JSText day our tingling toes And nose wis frcze; Now pleasure and content For us have wentl We'll see no more the green Which cist we seen; Tho world is not tho samo Sinco snow lias came. Each lane, each lover's nook From us is took And scenes we loved to draw Shall not be saw Till spring's above and hid What frosta have did! New pongs stick in our throat Wo have wrote; Ths heights grow drear and dim Wo might havo clin-.! That pome to August's sun Wo ntvev done! Darkness o'er hill ana dell And us have fell, And on cur pleasure flat The sui has sat. -Ted Robinson, in "The Merry Muse."
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/TS19170811.2.32
Bibliographic details
Star (Christchurch), Issue 12083, 11 August 1917, Page 7
Word Count
148BEGINNING TO WHINE. Star (Christchurch), Issue 12083, 11 August 1917, Page 7
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