Poets' Corner

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 441, 24 August 1928, Page 14

Poets ' Corner

FROM A WINDOW (Written for THE SUN) When moonlight on the backs of sheep Shines dimly silver, dimly bright, Gone are the crudities of Day, And the simplicity of Night. Lays quiet magic on a ivorlcl Where only black and white stand out, Uninterrupted, in still fields, Where, moving silently about, Half-cut with shadows, from black trees, Half-brushed with lustre coolly white, The thick, soft backs of moonlit sheep Shine dimly silver, dimly bright. UNA CURRIE. THESE FIELDS (Written for THE SUN) So many years these old fields lie Green and brown beneath the sky While all the diff’rent gods go by. They ivant me now To bend my head and bow To a White Child! To own A Wise Babe on a Gold Throne! I, living here alone . In. the wide fields beneath the open sky, Ask them, “Why?” “For Peace,” they say, “and Love,” (Clamouring in my quiet places) “And hope, when the day goes by Of a broad new life beyond the enfolding sky.” Why should they trouble me with all their graces? Peace is a truth to me, but, for all they claim, Vo them but a name. Perhaps in the town " Where feet go clamouring up and clatter down, And the strange steeds Go forth, and there is noise of speech. They ask, who have' great need Of Peace, and reach Their eager hands, and strive For a life, when this is done —• For a broad new life beyond■ the shining sun. And all these years the dear fields lie Green and grey beneath the sky, As the diff’rent faiths grow old and die. What should 1 need Of a further life, when my meed For quiet years in these fields Is the Peace that the good earth yields —• Is the Love that the great Sun brings? And, when my days go past, Not for me shining wings, But a quiet sleep at last Against these good brown fields. And years to come these fields shall lie A glory to the earth and sky While gods as .well as men go by. ISHBEL VEITCH. Wanganui. WINGS (Written for THE SUN) I know a man who hunts for butterflies, And, his are specimens surpassing rare; The people come to that strange house of dreams To sigh and stare. 1 know a man who roams the wilds of song, And brings back legends to his native town; He captured thoughts tohose wings are ‘ jewelled words And, like the naturalist, has pinned them down. WINIFRED 3. TENNANT.