A LETTER FROM LOLA.
Dear Dot, — It is so long since I wrote to you last tlbat all my little D.L.F. iriend3 are beginning to think Lola has deserted !D.L.F.-dom> altogether. During the laet few weeks I have received quite a number of Sad, plaintive little letters entreating me "to return. Fling open wide the gates of D.L.F.-dom and let Lola pass through. She is in a dreadful hurry to-day. Well, now,dear hearts, how are you all? Lola has been watching you from afeij and has often looked: in vain for a long letter from gome of our once most regular frequenters of D.L.F-dom's happy pleasure grounds. Lo! there are so many strange' -new comrades that Lola feels sad and disappointed as she scans each flitting D.L.F-/ page, looking in vain for old names and well-beloved writers. Let us all sit down on the evergreen mossy banks of yesterday and h&ve a Teal -D.L.F. gossip. Una Trewinnon, hast thou grown weary of the bright realms of D.L.F.-dom? Have new friends drawn your heart away from us? Lady Esler too has vanished into the misty regions of forgetfulness. Even our true, loyal -Gravel has been long absent from his accustomed place". Come back, ye wanderers, and. bring with you all your bright joyful thoughts and fill our hearts brimful of sunshine as of yore. Arise, dear heart, come forth and sing! Join thou thy voice with all this music sweet Of crowding J).EF. and busy, soaring wing And falling showers (of letters)^ And the- murmur soft of little writers new 'born. In Dot's garden a new sweetness, stirs, and my heart fills, And in and out my memory flows soft, sweet airs of long ago. ' a Arise! dear heart, and sing thy song, And it shall float across the . meadows, ' Over the far-off hills, to find swe«t echoes in my heart. There, Lola has actually burst into poetry—^or is it poetry, Dot? Somehow the verses and rhythm seem to go halting. If Lady Esler does not answer to such a poetical appeal, knowing the desperate struggle it has cost me to manufacture it, well, she must be harder-heaxted than I imagined &k-e -was. " A- flash of blue sky on wing, Oh, suxely this is spring! The sod of my garden is green, To-day is spring! Lilacs are budded with promises fair, Sweetness of violets shower-wet fills the air; Crocuses peep up through, the ground. I push my door open and let in the spring, I walk in my garden green, And life seems a thing Tuned to the^song that the thrushes sing. ' (Selected.) Dear little friends^, spring has come, and with its crisp, cold freshness there goes sweeping over hill and valley down through the close, crowded streets of the city a clear, strong, sweet call of hope and promise — the two great powers 'whioh keep the great world of weary men and women, aye, and tired children, progressive and happy. The listening ear may hear all creation sending forth a mighty melodiaus hymn of praise and hope. And, the whole world of beauty seem-s to have burst forth free and jubilant from her long, winter sleep; and we too feel our hearts filled with fresh hope and joy. The sunniest and most contented of us are apt to have "blue moods" in the long, dreary winter days, especially thoso who are bound to the weary treadmill of labour, cramped up between fo,ur walls of offic% oi workroom. Even the little child at school turns longing, wistful eyes towards the coming of spring, and weeps -over her. harsh fate and the command that lessons must be learned even L the days are dark and gloomy. '--Bound to the wbeel_ of discipline we a]l "a-re — young and old, rich and pocir. The sweet strong call of spring brings home to us all the same lesson : <: That all the shadowed, pathways of life lead up to. the light," and the wheel of discipline but hastens the time when, we shall be made new, when our sorrow and sighing tears and bitterness of heart shall all ba changed into a great hymn of praise and admiration. Longfellow writes : — " Oh, what a glory doth this world put on For him who with a, fervent hear' goes larth Under the blight and glorious sky and looks On duties well performed and days well spent." And what can, our verj little fol' do to help the world along, this fresh sweet spring? Harriet Beecher Stowe says " Carry yourself as an orange would if it could walk up and down, the garden, swinging perfume from every little censoi it holds up to the air." " Little fingers soft and deft Many a tack have bravely done; Littte eyes can surely see Every true and goodly thing. Little hearts can always feel Sympathy for suffering.' 1 And now I am afraid, Dot, you will be reminding me that when I came through the gates of D.L.F.-dom I was in quite a hurry, and perhaps I had better hurry off out again and leave -room for others. Kind lovr to all Little Folk, known and unknown, and most warm and hearty greetings to every Herbert D.L.F., and may each little writer from that dear,, well-iemembered spot be loyal and true, living and working up to the D.L.F. motto, " For others, not -urg-elves." LOLA.
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Otago Witness, Issue 2895, 8 September 1909, Page 81
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892A LETTER FROM LOLA. Otago Witness, Issue 2895, 8 September 1909, Page 81
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