CHILDREN’S VERSES.

Waikato Times, Volume 108, Issue 18159, 25 October 1930, Page 16 (Supplement)

CHILDREN’S VERSES.

SPRING WAKING. (Sent by Audrey Cranston, Matangi.) A snowdrep lay in the sweet, damp ground. “Come out,” said the Sun. “Come out." But she lay quite still, and she heard a sound. , “Asleep," said the Sun; “no doubt.” The snowdrop heard, for she raised her head. “Look spry,” said the Sun. “Look spry." “It's warm," said the snowdrop, “here in bed.” “Or fie," said the Sun; “oh fie." ROYALTY. (Sent by Merle Cranston, Matangi.) In London you may really see ■ r - Princes ' and'' "princesses, Wearing, just like you and me, Ordinary dresses; Driving in the park or street (A baby one, 1 with nurses), Or even walking on their feet, And shopping with their purses.

But how I wish they’d wear a crown And a diamond order; Or a lovely velvet gown, With an erm'ine border, Which a little page might hold When it’s muddy weather, In a cap of green and gold, With a curly feather.

THE SPOON.

(Sent by Bryon Alderwick, Gordonton)

Before I eat my pudding I often stop to see If someone in my pudding-spoon Is really me. For up-and-down they are so thin, And sideways they’re so fat, I don’t believe it’s possible That I can look like that.

THE SNOWMAN. (Sent by “Moon Moth,” Claude-, lands.) “Well, Mr Snowman, how are you?” “Alas, dear sir, but sadly; The children round about, you know, Have treated me so badly. “They built me up in such a way I scarce can hold together, And l'eel I’ll simply break in two If warmer gets the weather. “And then they snowball me as well, And knock me over, nearly I” “Oh, well,” the other said, and smiled, “That’s what we’re made for, really I” the spoon. (Sent by Wynn Wallace, Tamahere.) Before I eat fny pudding I often stop to see If someone in my pudding-spoon Is really, really me. For up-and-down they are so thin, And sideways they’re so fat, I don't believe it’s possible That I can look like that.

the greatest joy. (Sent by Albert Ushaw, 7, Frankton.) Oh, how I wish that I could plan my life To while away the hours; ’Twould he within a garden fair, Among the choicest ilowers. Among the lilies, tall and straight, Borders of violets, deepest blue; Red roses clustered round the gate, Pansies and asters, wallflowers, too. So when I buy my country home, Whether it be large or small, I will always have a garden— My greatest joy of all. THE SCARECROW. (Sent by “Golden Wings,” Hamilton East.) All winter through I how my head Beneath the driving rain; The north wind powders me with snow, Then blows me back again. At midnight under a maze of stars I flame with glittering rime, Anri stand above the stubble stiff As male as morning prime.

BUTTERCUP GOLD.

(Sent by Audrey Cranston, Matangi.) I’m walking through the butteroups with gold upon my toes, And gold upon my petticoat and gold upon my nose; For every little buttercup has a powder-puff, And each of them is sprinkled with the bright gold stuff. DIMPLEB. (Sent by “New Moon,” Hamilton.) Dimples is a merry tot, ■ Fond of frolic—who Is not? But she can be busy too; Many things the rogue can do. When Belinda sweeps the rooms Dimples fetches mops and brooms, Brushes kits and mother cat From their slumbers on the mat. Mummy, dear,-she helps to bake, Weighs the currants for the cake, Mixes it and stirs it so i : u\: • Overboard the currants go l*

"Now I’ve settled Daddy’s tea I’ll arrange some flowers," ’ says

she. - And with strawberry blooms, alas, Dimples fills a dainty glass.

Soon the cheery kettle hums-- '' Dimples shouts, “My Daddy

comes I" Round his neok her arms she fling*. “Welcome home,” the kettle sings.

“Has my little maid been good?” > All mishaps are understood. As her dimples deeper grow, And she whispers, “I don’t know; P’raps—p’raps not—lt’s hard to say; Ask me, Dad, some other day I”

TEDDY.

(Sent by “Yellowhammer,” Matangi.)

When Teddy oame on Christmas Day His eyes were bright, his fur was gay; He moved his legs, he swung each

, arm, His smile was guaranteed to charm; And somewhere hici inside his chest A squeaker made a noise when pressed. To-day, alas I this Teddy-bear Is very much the worse for wear; His fur is now a sorry sight Since Donald left him out all night; His voice is just a chronic coughOne beady eye has fallen off; Our puppy, I regret to say, Devoured a leg the other day. But Teddy, woebegone and lame, Is loved by Donald just the same; Together they go out for'walks, Together they have endless talks, Together they are tucked in bed, That battered toy and curly head— They are a most devoted pair, Young Donald and his Teddy-bear. THE BOOTBLACK AND THE APPL&. (Sent by lan Andrews, Frankton.) He was a Bowery bootbladk, His years they numbered nine; Rough and unpolished, albeit, He constantly aimed to shine. As proud as a king on his box he sat, Munching an apple red, While the rest of his set looked wistfully on, And “Give us a bite," they said. The bootblack smiled a lordly smile—“A’o free bites'’er?,” he cried. The boys all sadly turned away, Save one, who stood by his side.

“Bill, give us the core,” he whispered low— The bootblack smiled once more, And a mischievous dimple grew in his cheek—- “ There ain’t going to be any core,”

GOOD WISHES. Good wishes I send upon their way When I awake at dawn of day. It makes me happy just to know That far and wide messages may go. They float away on fairy wings, Carrying truly beautiful things; And wondrous things may come about By these good wishes I send out. I send good wishes all the day, At home, when working, or at play; For some one needs their kindly che To banish every doubt and fear. And when I go to bed at night, Before I close my eyelids tight, I send good wishes out once more For happier things than e’er before, Good wishes I send everywhere, For wishes are unspoken prayer.