NATURE—AND MAN

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume 79, Issue 305, 30 December 1935, Page 4

NATURE—AND MAN

JOY FOR ALL FEASTS OF CHARM (Edited by Leo Fanning) At this time of ihe year few people wish to be seriously instructed about anything. Therefore this week's column will give thoughts and meditations of various poets on the cures whk’h nature offers for weariness of mind or body. Here is Wordsworth"s doctrine:— Nature never did betray The heart that loved her; *tis her privilege. Through all the years of this our life, to lead From joy to joy; for she can so inform The mind that is within us, so impress With quietness and beauty, and so feed With lofty judgements, nor the sneers of selfish men. Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all Ttie dreary intercourse of daily life Shall e’er prevail against or disturb Onr cheerful faith that all which we behold Is full of blessings Memories Here are lines written bv Wordsworth to his sister, as warm a n?-ture-lover as he was: Thy mind Shall he a mansion for all lovely forms. Thy memory be as a dwelling place For all sweet sounds and harmonies. . . A similar thought moved in the mind of Alix Thorn when there lines were written: — Through rhe street’s < amour, though a Vhill wind blew. I seemed to-day to hear from far away A bird’s clear note of rapture, wildly sweet. That spoke of dreaming woods, a summer day. And wakeful in the dawn. I did not see The dull brick wall before my weary Instead a curving beach end water dear. And balsam bought against blue bending skies. What dear memories Madison Cawein stirs in us ail with his “ Par Away and Never Near”! Far away. oh. far away. Where the clouds grow white and the shadows grey; Where the twilight dreams and the rain wind sleeps. And the haunted waterfall sobs and leaps; Oh. there, whatever the soul may say, Far away, oh, far away. !• the faeryland of yesterday! Singing Waters Many years ago Roderick Quinn, a promising young Australian poet wrote very pleasant verses in the Bulletin under the heading of “Singing Waters” >

A., day long the singing waters Go their way through fern-trees tall With a gladsome, gliding motion, rearing not the distant ocean, Hearing not its ancient call Sent from bar to beach where breakers Foaming fall. Winds beside the singing waters Gossip of green wanderings— Verdant arises and alleys lonely. Known to birds and breezes onlv, Lit hy flowers and scarlet wings. Where the sun his golden mantle Daylong flings. Here at home, by singing waters, Throng the birds at end of day; Here the finches, here the thrushes, Here the reed-birds from the rushes, Here the magpies black and grey, Fold their wings grown tired of singing. Tired of play. Heart’s Desire “Afoot is the title of a poem by 4 Fox JSinith who nobly expresses the heart’s desire of any nature-lover:— lor me. the mi-ay meadows fresh with morn, The tramp through noontide heat to evening gray. The tar-seen smoke from the day’s goal upborne, The halt, the friendly greetin'’' bv the wav. The distant hill behind far Trill descried, The road by day, the rest at. eventide, I know each wayside wood, each moorland brown. Each hidden by-way and reposeful brook. I know the free hill and glooming glen. And kindly fires, the humble homes of men. Don’t Shock the Fairies My scrap-book has the best fullpage I have ever seen in Punch—three anonymous verses headed “Picnic,” in a setting of sketches bv Ernest Shipa rd—May 16, 1923: If you go a-p:cnicing and throw your scraps about lou’ll never see the little folk go running in and out, And if you leave your orange peel all littered on the grass You’ll never go to Fairy Lend or see the fairies pass. For empty tins and tangled strings And paper bags ere not the things To scatter where a linnet sings. So if you go a-picnicing :emember you’re a guest Of all the tiny people, and you’ll really find it best To leave their ball-room tidy and to clear away the mess, And perhaps you*ll see a fairv in her newest dancing dress. Tut paper bags and broken tombs Will really wreck the pixie homes And frighten all the tiny gnomes. But if you go a-picnicing and you are elfin wise You’ll maybe hear with fairy ears and see with goblin eyes; The little folk will welcome vou, and they will open wide The hidden doors of Fairy Land, and you will pass inside. And maybe see a baby fay White cradled in a cherry spray, Although it is Bank Holiday.