ORIGINAL VERSE

Southland Times, Issue 21091, 24 May 1930, Page 22

ORIGINAL VERSE

Cousin Chrissie Ross is very young to be able to express her thoughts so beautifully, and hers is a great gift which I am glad to see she is beginning to recognise with some regularity. “The Silver Falls” is undoubtedly the best poem she has yet'sent me, and to say I am very proud of it and her is expressing very mildly the joy with which I regard it. Her rhythmic sense is developing, although here and there are still slight flaws in metre. Her descriptive work is particularly fine. Here is a young versemaker from whom I expect wonderful things in the future. THE SILVER FALLS. Through the native bush, Where moss grows thick and soft, Where ferns stretch out caressing fronds, Where birches rise aloft, Is a fairy fountain, A place of joy and tears, With silver rain, And moss-lined ponds, On which Nature .has worked for years. ; 1 Along the leaf-strewn track, Where trees grow straight and slim, Where little fan-tails flaunt and flit, Where moss adorns each limb, The waters spray and fall In clouds of silver dust, Splendrous to see, , And leaping trout Arouse the beauty-lust. —4 marks to Cousin Chrissie Ross (11), Puketiro. Catlins. Cousin Peter Ferguson’s sense of fun he conveys effectively in his verses, and ’'The First Explorer” works up to a striking finish. His metrical skill has improved mormously of late. THE FIRST EXPLORER. ’Twas long ago when all was young, A caveman made a boat— He scraped at it, he hollowed it, Because it had to float. He filled it up with Stone Age meat, And water hard as bricks: He killed a Wonkysauraus and A dozen Stone Age chicks. He filled his boat from bow to stern, Then sat up on the top; Said fond goodbye to all his Told Ma to mind the shop. He lit. his pipe and puffed away; His boat went swiftly by, He sent a wireless message home. Perhaps he had a “cry.” He went away for many a moon, As fast as he could sail; He caught a storm, and boxed it up. And sent it home by mail. He saw an island far away; To it he steered his craft, But when he saw the animals, He laughed, and laughed, and laughed ! He laughed so much he split his sides, He also sank the craft: And when the beasts had seen it all, They laughed, and laughed, and laughedl They laughed so much they couldn’t stop. And so on till they died. When Cap’n Cook came to the isle He tried to find their “hide.” But not an animal was there, And so he ate a Moa; And people later came along And called it Ate a roa! • *Otherwise Aotea-Roa. —4 marks to Cousin Peter Ferguson (15), Underwood. Cousin Nancy Rowan is another of my verse-makers who has started off particularly well. “Night,” her latest poem, has much to commend, and little to find fault with. Well done, my dear! NIGHT. The moon shone through in a still dark night, To give to the world its radiant light; You, Lady Moon, in your cloth of gold. To us the beauties of heaven unfold. While the stars receive their nightly guest, How soft the flow’rs sleep on earth’s quiet breast, And the drowsy leaves stir ’neath your beams, And I, gazing upwards, dream my dreams. —4 marks to Cousin Nancy Rowan (12), Otautau. Cousin Hazel Stewart has such a good sense of rhythm and such thoughtful ideas that I do wish she would try to do more with rhyming. There will be plenty of time in the future for her to go back to blank verse—if she wants to. It is apt to become monotonous BEAUTY. There’s beauty everywhere arouno In town and country places, too: But still we all go blindly on With ne’er a thought for Nature's work. The maiden Spring trips here and there With dainty feet and laughing eyes. She tends the green, young shoots, and clothes The trees with tiny leaves. The birds Awake and greet her with their song. In Summertime we see bright flowers And gaudy butterflies and bees— We hear the whispering breeze. The brook Murmurs upon its way, with clear And crystal waters, to the sea. With colours gay comes Autumn tnen, And scatters, over hill and dale, The golden brown, or often red, And sometimes e’en a touch of bronze. But when King Winter comes along, With icy winds and hail and sleet, The colours all have vanished And in their stead is falling snow. —3 marks to Cousin Hazel Stewart (15), 270 Ythan street, Invercargill Another particularly clever verse-maker among our newer Cousins is Cousin Kathleen Henderson, who also has ideas of startling beauty and deep thoughtfulness. “The Sower of Stars” is a charming poem, the inconsistent rhyming between the first and second verse is the only thing with which I can find fault. I do like the “dewbells” trembling. THE SOWER OF STARS A fairy went up ever so high, Into the vast, deep blue sky, Scattering over to left and right, A silver shower for man’s delight, All alone on an Autumn’s night, Sowing the stars in the sky. The fairy came back in the misty dawn, While the dew-bells trembled upon the lawn. He had sown his stars in the realms of night, And came back to earth in a reckless flight. The winds scarce heard his footfall light, The sower of stars in the sky. —3 marks to Cousin Kathleen Henderson (12), Mataura Cousin Zoe Smith’s first attempt at verse-maklhg is very promising indeed, SUNSET. At last the sun is going down, • Behind the hills around the town; 1 Hues of different shades are seen, Golden, red, and sometimes green. The sun is growing very slim, The light is also very dim " / Now the sun has gone away. And so it ends a perfect day. —2 marks to Cousin Zoe Smith (12), 24 Mitchell street, Lindisfarne.-