CORN AND LEAF GOLD.

Star (Christchurch), Volume LXVI, Issue 20274, 7 April 1934, Page 23 (Supplement)

CORN AND LEAF GOLD.

Riches Sent by Starlets.

AUTUMN'S MESSAGE TO A MOTHER. Nights had not yet begun to close in, nor to assume pre-winter chilliness; it was eventide in the most joyous season in a favoured New Zealand valley—favoured because of its priceless endowment of rich pastures, made green by autumn rains, its sereneness, its beauty and its climate agreeable to man and crop alike. The goldencheeked apples in the orchard clung to the Lough or fell softly, strewing the ground, leaves fluttered from the trees, and gentle winds caressed their secluded favourite, the old farmhouse, as it hid between the two friendly slopes like a shy child. It seemed to shrink from the world outside its walls of stone covered with still lingering creepers of roses and the pleasant boundaries of the valley. Within, the mother sat by the light of a lamp, sewing, content, the day’s work dene, the little ones in slumberland. Presently she rose, folded her work and softly opened the window to the clear, still night. Reverently she placed the lighted lamp at the window and caressed a late rose as it kissed her cheek. “ Soon you, too, will be gone, my pretty flower.” murmured the mother, sadly. “ Enough that one I love should go than all. Oh! wul he come; and when? But I must not wake my sleeping babes, so good-night, sweet rose,” and she closed the window as quietly as she had opened it. Midnight darkened the hills arid trees round the little farmhouse, making ghostly shadows amid pale pools of moonlight. The golden gleams from the lamp set at the window played with the fairies in the pines and visited the stars. But somebody, peeping over a sentinel hill, saw those beams and rejoiced that all was forgiven. For the father, who had been disgraced in the great city, had found at last those he sought and was gladdened by the peacefulness of the valley. Here, surely, he could make good, living contentedly. . . . Next morning, the happy mother, her prayer answered, took him once more into her heart and he became king of the valley—the joyous valley echoing by day with childish laughter, at night, sweetly quiet, king of orchard and pasture, beautiful by Lady Autumn, of rose-cheeked apples, fluttering leaves, gentle breezes of the Pleasant Land. Dorothy Stanton.

GOLDEN HARVEST. Golden stocks of ripened wheat beneath the harvest moon— Blood-red berries shining ’midst the leaves. Poppies red, cornflowers blue amidst the mellow -wheat. Like jewels rare amongst the golden sheaves. Leaves upon the maples that were painted over-night, Purple, red and yellow, pink and brown— Blossoms frail that toss their petal* earthward in the breeze, To the pools where all the shad>w» drown. Harvest time, when all is ripe and bountiful, Golden fruit upon the orchard wall— Russet apples, fat brown nuts, and mellow pears, God has given harvest for us all. Harvest for the people in the cities. For the workers who bring in tha sheaves, Harvest for the fays who tint the berries, And the gorgeous multi-coloured leaves. Harvest for the birds who eat the berries, And the squirrels who the walnuts store— God has given harvest to the whole world — And all His people bless Him more and more. (Copied). Daphne Dickie (Rotherham). THE BROWN ELF. A little brown elf, In a little red hood. Is creeping so stealthily Into the wood. He touches the leaves. Then 10l and behold Their tender green changes To crimson and gold. But a dear little fairy, Uncared for—alone, Is slowly descending Her sweet woodland throne. And as the fair Summer Flies sadly away, The Autumn makes known His intention—to stay. (Copied). Kathleen Turner (Merivale).