CHILDREN’S VERSES.

Waikato Times, Volume 117, Issue 19545, 6 April 1935, Page 16 (Supplement)

CHILDREN’S VERSES.

THE FLOWERS’ WEDDING. The bride was Clematis, dressed in snowy-white, The bridesmaids were Roses, in colours pale and bright, The flowergirls were Violets—modest and shy, The pages were Forget-me-nots, as blue as the sky. The bridegroom was Kowhal, In a gay suit of yellow, The best-man was Dahlia, a very fine fellow, While at the altar, to wed the happy two, Stood tall, crimson .Poppy, stately and true. ('Sent by Sweet William.) THE PANSY AND THE RAIN. A pansy grew in a little red pot Alone on the garden wall, And a little brown sparrow came each day To pay her a friendly call. But onco he found her heart-broken and ill, “ i shall die of thirst ” she said, “ My leaves arc withered, nly soil is dry, And she drooped her pretty head. “ My mistress has planted a rose bush there And forgets to water me, But the little brown sparrow comforted her: “ I’ll do what 1 can,” said lie. So then xip and up to the sky lie flew Till a rain cloud came in sight, And sparrow whispered close to .his ear, And I lie cloud said, “Well I might.” Then down in glittering drops there fell, The gentle summer rain; And Hie pansy smiled at the gentle shower, And lifted her head again. (Sent by Bruce Whale.)

(Girl Guide Notoe and Scout Nows will bo found on page 23)

THE DONKEY RIDE. Isn’t It fun. to go for a ride, And isn’jt our donkey a dear, Don’t look so nervous but hold on tight, Really there's nothing to fear. “ One, two, three, I say; “ Give him his head, and gallop away.” —Copied (Sent by Audrey Long.) WINTER. The soft white snow falls down like that,. And here is the snow man’s big top hat. Here is a snow, hall, and there is a slide, With the children swaying from side lo side. (Sent by Alauriee McLeod.). THE NEST. No one knows this nest but me, I found it in this little tree; Such a darling little nest, The very place fop birds to rest. Best of all, in it I found. Four eggs, speckled, blue and round; Dainty, cosy, there they lay, But they'll be birdies, too, some day, Dry grass, woven, made a cup, Soft wee feathers lined it up; On a little branch it clung, And to and from was gently swungLike their mother, small and brownT With a little bronzy crown, Set upon her tiny head, And o’er her eye, arched bands of redI’ll come walking by some day, And find that they’ve all ilown away; Just an empty nest there’ll be, A-swinging in a lonely tree. (Original. By Joy Clicstcrrnan, 14)