THE GREEN VALLEY

Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 74, 18 June 1927, Page 26

THE GREEN VALLEY

There’s a cool green valley that nestles in hills, Sheltered by pine-trees that sigh in the breeze, Cooled by the soft winds that blow through the trees, Watered by rivers and freshened by rills. There’s a cool green valley that bathes in sun, Radiant with flowers that laugh in the light; Calm in the evening and breathless at night, Hushed by the dawn when the dark is done. There’s a cool green valley that flowers in spring, With pale sweet blossoms of pink and white, A valley of joy and pure delight, A valley of youth where the joy birds sing. —Vera Thornhill, Beckham Place, Auckland (aged 14).

MOONLIGHT REVELS Oh, when a full moon shines above In a spangled vault of blue, And every tree and little leaf Is sparkling with the dew. And little mortal children sleep Upon their pillows white, The sprites and fairies, hand in handGo tripping through the night. And when old Jack Frost spreads his sheet Of white upon the ground, The fairies hold their revels ’neath That big moon bright and round. And from beneath the green grass blades The small white daisies peep, When a full moon shines in a vault of blue And mortals are asleep. —Jean Mclndoe, Hamilton (aged 12). CORRINA COME A-MAYING Come, my Corrina, come, come with me a-maying Over the hills at break of day; Hear what the birds are saying; “Come by the fountain’s mossy brim Through the marble courtyard dim, The rosy mayflowers wet with dew Wait in the sunlight, wait for you.” What are the wild birds saying? “Corrina, my Corrina, come a-maying.” The dewdrops bright, like ropes of pearls, Were dropped by last night nymphs with curls, Butterflies flit o’er the winding rill. The glowing may-blooms shimmer still. Floating on the placid streams, The cup-like waterlily gleams. What are the sweet harps playing? “Corrina, my Corrina, come a-maying!” —Becky Pelham, Royal Oak, Onehunga (aged 13). THE ORANGE An orange cut up and spread out on a plate, Is all very well for occasions of state; But to make a small hole and to suck till it’s done, With both hands to squeeze it, Is much better fun. —E. V. Lucas. As much of heaven is visible as we have eyes to see.