OUR POETRY

Taranaki Daily News, 27 September 1940, Page 10

OUR POETRY

—Rodney Bennett.

DAFFODIL TIME. (Sent by Joan Irving.) I thought. I saw some fairies Dancing by the trees, With golden hair a-tossing In a little breeze. Up and down they curtseyed, To and fro they swayed, Green legs all a-twinkling As they .danced and played. But when I went to see them They all kept very still, And then found each fairy Was just— a dafTodil! SPRING MORNING. (Sent by Yolande Campbell.) The . gay green world of spring Is all about me; Cherry, and thrush to sing, Bluebell and beech tree. Violets, blue and white, Strawberry blossom too; Primroses' pallid light Starring the wood through. Hush! for the sound is sweet, High in the oak tree, There thrush and thrush do meet Singing songs for me. PITTER-PATTER. (Sent by Esma Riddick.) Pitter-patter, pitter-patter, Little drops of rain. Pitter-patter, pitter-patter On my window pane. Pitter-patter, pitter-patter, Wetting all our toes, Pitter-patter, pitter-patter Spoiling all our clothes. Pitter-patter, pitter-patter, Dancing on the flowers; Pitter-patter, pitter-patte>\ It's raining April showers! THE RAINDROPS' MESSAGE. (Sent by Margaret Laurence.) The silver raindrops patter Upon the earth to-day; Tap! tap! Their knock is gentle, And this is what they say: "Oh, little flowers, awaken, And open wide your door; Come out in pretty dresses For spring is herc once more." RICHES. (Sent by Olive Sellers.) With golden daffodils at my feet And the golden sun in the sky, And golden curls u!l over my head Who could be richer than I? I've heard of King Midas in days of old, How all that he touched was turned to gold; And millionaires and people of rank Who hide their riches away in the bank. ' But with golden daffodils at my feet And the golden sun in the sky, And golden curls all over my head, Who could be richer than 1? A SPRING SONG. (Sent by Patricia Lye.) Spring is laughing in the meadows, Spring is dancing down the lane Flinging green and gold and silver O'er the bare brown earth again. Listen how the birds are singing, And across the breezy hills Do you hear the soft, sweet music Of the chiming daffodils? KATEY GRAY. (Sent by Maureen Botten.) Little Katey Gray Strayed away to play; She stayed away And played away All on an April day. She played in the coal hole; And when they brought her back, She wasn't little Katey Gray But little Katey Black. Katey, Katey, Katey, What a place to play! Playing games in the coal holes!— Oh you grimy Katey Gray!

FAIRY TIME. (Sent by Joan Cathie.) If you lived in Fair Town You'd hear the bluebells chime; You'd count the airy thistledown To find out dinner time. The baby fairies have such fun— They do not like to wait,, And ere the morning's well begun They cry, "Our dinner's late" And to the thislte docks they go (With wings you fear no fall), And blow the down to make it show Just any time at all. ''