CHILDREN’S VERSES.

Waikato Times, Volume 108, Issue 18165, 1 November 1930, Page 16 (Supplement)

CHILDREN’S VERSES.

THE FAIRY. (Sent by “Twilight Fairy,” Matangi.) Once I saw a fairy Entangled in a bush; Another laughing fairy Had given her a push. “Oh, help me!” sobbed the fairy. “Do try and set me free." But the other laughing fairy Just scampered off with glee.' I ran up very quickly, To set the fairy free; But I had to look on sadly, . \ There was no power ia me.

I gave -another look at her, Of pity and of grief— The last curl of her flaxen hair Had withered tro a leaf. BE GOOD. (Sent by Merle Cranston, Matangi.) Little children, we must seek Rather to be good than wise; For the thoughts we do not speak Shine out in our cheeks and eyes. BABY MINE. (Sent by Audrey Cranston, Matangi.) D’you know what happened yester- , day?. A baby sister came to stay! She has wee pinkly crumpled toes, And such a funny little nose 1 No teeth at all. And as for hair, Her head is nearly bare. But nurse says both those things will grow In time. And nurse’s sure to know. WHAT’S THE MATTER? (Sent by Marjorie Davys, Forest Lake.) The poppies are scarlet with anger, The sweet peas a-flutter with. rage. Hark to the clatter and talk going on ‘Midst the thyme and the mint and the sage! The pansies are whisp’ring about it, And really the lupin looks vexed; He surely wants whipping/ the golden rod says; And the roses are crying: “What next?” For a naughty nasturtium has shut up a bee, Which is making him terribly late for his tea. THE PICNIC. (Sent by Audrey Cranston, Matangi.) We were going to have a picnic— Just Elizabeth and me— A garden picnic on our own, Beneath the cherry tree.

We built a fire of pea-sticks, And boiled our kettle on it; And Betty picked some strawberries, And brought them in her bonnet.

But just as all was ready, The gardener came in' view, And crossly said: “I never saw A wusser pair than youl”

THE TOPSY TURVY SCHOOL.

In the Topsy Turvy School There’s the strangest, queerest rule All day long the children play, With one hour for work each day;

All the desks are full' of candy, Rosy apples are kept handy; In the hall, on rows of hooks, Useless hang the bags of books. Naughty boys, both large and small, Are punished with a game of ball; And if the girls do wrong, I guess, Dolls are given them to dress. Children who refuse to talk Take some bits of coloured chalk, And to the blackboard they are sent To scribble for a punishment. Eveiy hour they dance and sing, In the yard there is a swing, And when you ask, “May I go out?” “Yes,, if you slam the door and shout. Don't come back if you choose to stay,” The teacher will be sure to say. Every child obeys the rule In the Topsy Turvy School.

STURDY JIM. (Sent by “Kingfisher,” Matangi.) I’m glad .that I am seven years old, Said sturdy little Jim; Tom goes to school; he draws and sings, Learns Latin, and a lot of things; Now I shall go with him.

I’m glad I can do sums and write It would be a disgrace To go into a little class; I’m pretty sure that I shall pass, And take a right good place.

I’m glad that I can skate and swim; I would not be a muff 'Like some quite big tall boys I know, Who with a nurse a-walking go— I call that “Horrid stuff."

I’m glad Jhat I can bear a fall. Or blow, without a cry. I often clamber up the trees, And scratch my hands, and cut my knees — .1 do not care, not II

I’m very glad that I’m a boy (A good one when I can) ; I might have been a dog or cat, A girl, or something worse than that. Now I shall be a man. ■ \ SPRING IS FOR YOU. The spring tides and streams are flowing From our snowy mountain peaks; The sun’s beauty is glowing As from dark clouds it creeps. Mother Nature has been around— Such a dear soul is she— And sprinkled grass seed on the ground * So the pastures green will be. The cattle are eating and lowing, The shepherd is watching his .flock, The sheep and the lambs do not wander, • ' For he keeps them near to the brook. This world and its beauty is gorgeous, The- sun and the flowers, too; But the best of all is to think that God Made all of this for you. ALL THAT GLITTERS IS NOT GOLD. I saw a little pixie man As ugly as could be, And then I saw another one, And'yet another three. They carried gems and -preoious stones Into a grassy dell; Spreading their stores out on the ground, They all began to sell. “Come buy, buy, buy! Come buyl" they cried. “Who’ll buy our wares to-night? We’ve silver, gold and, precious gems, All sparkling, gay and bright.” Then others came, so weird of mien. In horror I recoiled, The beauty of that market dell By their rough ways was spoiled.

Then, growing bolder, I went up To one bright booth and said—

“Please sell to me this ruby ston* Of such a glorious red'j’ The pixie grinned at me, and smiled (He smiled an ugly smile). I wonder why such lovely things Belonged to gnomes so vile.

I asked again, so pleasantly, My words he could not miss; I asked once more—again, again, And all he said was this—“Come buy, buy; buy! Come buy,’ buy, buy, buy! Who’ll buy my wares to-night? I’ve silver, gold and precious stones, All sparkling, gay and bright!”

I heard a gentle little breeze A-whistling through the leaves, “Whoever -courts the pixie gems Before midnight, he grieves. Their gold is greed, their silver hate, Of vice their gems are made; In that bright ruby stone there lurks No good, I am afraid.”

“Beware,” he said, “of vanities The pixie men do sell. 0, run away, oh, run away! Oh, quit this evil dell!" I ran away, and never saw That market glen again. I never, never want to try Their jewels to obtain.