VERSES.

Waikato Times, Volume 103, Issue 17384, 21 April 1928, Page 16 (Supplement)

VERSES.

THE MAGIC BRUSH. (Copied.) I often used to wonder, And so, perhaps, have you, Why every little flower Is different in hue. The daffodil and iris, Only buds to-day, To-morrow will be gorgeous In colours rich and gay. I never saw an artist Climb our garden wall, With paint box, brush and easel, Or any one at all. Auntie thought that fairies Painted the buds at night, Then hid their wee paint brushes, And fled with morning's light. But she had never seen them, And wasn't sure, and so I still was very curious, And longing just to know. Till one day accidentally I found out for myself, For I slipped down in the orchard While looking for an elf. In a periwinkle flower, That I didn't mean to crush, I found the very sweetest thing, A tiny fairy brush. And if you don't believe me, There are hundreds there to-day, And in each little cup you'll And A paint brush slowed away. (Sent by "Irish Eyes," Karapiro.)

A LITTLE DOG BELONGED TO ME. A little dog belonged to me; It's coat was sleek and brown; It chased, a kitten up a tree, And neither has come down. And when I cry "Come down, you two," They only answer "Bowf!" and "Mew!" (Sent by Joyce Bryant, 7, Hamilton.) IF I WERE A FAIRY. I wish I were a fairy, With wings of blue and gold; I'd fly to far-off lands And tell of things untold. I wish I were a fairy, With eyes so bright and gay; I'd guard my dear queen's palace And keep wicked elves away.

I wish I were a fairy, A flower-fairy, loo; I'd pick a bunch of lovely flowers And give them all to you.