THE POETS’ CORNER

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume LXXXIII, Issue 20150, 19 May 1928, Page 8 (Supplement)

THE POETS’ CORNER

A LITTLE WALK. Come with me for a little walk, * Down by the river bed. There we can have a little tai:., About the berries red. They are on a big tall tree, Not up so very high. And if you look they seem to be, Dancing in the sky. From “BUTTERFLY,” Hunterville. THE MAN IN THE STORM. (Copied). Darker, darker, darker yet, All the sky is masked with clou-! . Grasses shiver, branches fret, Soon the winds wid neigh aloud , Now they only wake and sigh. Wrinkle down a pona, and die. Now the storm is perched aloft. Stretching dreadful wings for flight, While on sea and hill and croft Falls their dreadful shade as night; When he flaps those yet-poisoned wings, All the vault of heaven rings. Purple clouds that sag and lower. Yellow sea and russet heath ; Birds are hushed, and cattle cowc* • Now in all the world beneath Only man is left to dara All the menace of the air. Darker, darker, darker stilk Yet man’s ships on the seal Let the furies work their will. Beasts may hide, but man is h*, Man, the only mortal thing That can face his fear and sing. —From “YUKA LALLY DREAM GIRL.” Taihapc. SOMEBODY COMING TO STAY. Somebody’s coming, next month, to stay, The guest-room’s clad in a joy-dress gay; Colouring ther* on the walls of rose. Who is the guest? Ah nobody knows! Cretonned chairs have a festive look. There’s a cosy seat in the ingle-nook Where mother is dreaming at twilight close Who is the guest? Ah. nobody knows! A wonderful basket all replete; Everything delicate, daintily sweet; A filmy cot for the guest’s repose. Who is the guest? Ah. nobody knows! Somehow or other, I can’t think mvsclf. That toys will cumber that cupboard and shelf. And when the “Somebody” comes to stay. ’Twill be for many and many a day! —From "AVE MARIA,” T;." ..p-. TWILIGHT BELLS. (.Original). Softly the twilight bells are pealing. The hour of evening prayer, Far o’er the meadows the gentle tolling Draws us from far and near. Notes that are borne on the wings of the Breeze. Sweet and low thev sound, O! List to the whispering of the leaves When that soothing music resounds. Tired and weary though they be, A refuge they’ve come to seek. In the cloistered precincts of the chapel Even the crippled and the weak. Then the bells respond in chorus Melodies and sweet. Hark 1 The twilight bells are calling us In sweet communion meet. —From “SHIMMERING CASCADE.” Mar-