VERSES
FORSYTHIA Morning has come upon us and it is April, sumptuous with sun. I stand at my open window to see the forsythia rocketing on a battlefield of green. The long bourgeoned forsythia, packed tight with a glorious powder, has fused in the morning sun, and in a surprise bombardment (the throats of her flowers primed with yellow laughter) she sends up her rockets in a sudden spray. —Esther Mattson StansfieJd, in ‘ Christian Science Monitor.’ THE CROCUS Walking the garden limits, 1 Saw nothing fixed or outwardly; The cloudy race within my head Lived, while the solid hour fell dead. The grpy tower and the gilded clock I knew, and did not need to look; But on the grey soil as 1 stared, Single, a stroke of gold appeared. One o’clock to ray deathly strife, The crocus tolled me back to life— The smallest means are anchors made To pull man from his own long shade —(Robert Gittings, in the ‘ Observer.’
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/ESD19390923.2.110.3
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Evening Star, Issue 23379, 23 September 1939, Page 17
Word count
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162VERSES Evening Star, Issue 23379, 23 September 1939, Page 17
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