Selected Verse

Waikato Times, Volume 121, Issue 20284, 28 August 1937, Page 15 (Supplement)

Selected Verse

PORT. How many sailors on their perilous way From some far distant country have looked down From their tall masts upon this sleepy town, And anchored securely in this little bay. Shouting, or having through custom naught to say, All have leaned forward, sinewy and brown, And staring, felt a sudden, sharp renown Beat back upon them foi; their adventurous day. The lamps are lit no more at fall of light In seaward windows; only the children rush From tardy play, as always, to the hush Of indoors and their mothers—but whisper at night Of torn grey sails that floated slowly by The harbour mouth, of a half-heard helmsman’s cry. —Milicent Laubcnhcimer. LITTLE BOATS. The charm of little boats That part their way On the river’s silvery water Creeps into the hearts of those who watch From the sandy shore. Some of the boats go skimming jauntily With coloured sails that race the wind And some move to the liquid sound and rhythm Of the pulling oar— This is enchantment enough For those who hear the water’s lyric Wherever little boats glide On flowing water. —Joseph A. Silvia.

EVENING ETUDE. The -nale pink sky is dark with homing birds; the trees that sentinel the shore are moved to sudden animation; the quiet air above the still green pool is stirred by the penciled tip of many wings describing pathless arcs that only memory may follow; a dragon-fly takes one last stitch across the drowsing water and is gone. Suddenly, the reedy shore is dotted black as little heads dip pool-ward for the evening drink, like actors acknowledging applause. —Myrtle E. Gage. GULLS INLAND. And so the gulls come, a soft flock of white Against the blue, a white flotilla sailing Landward through thoroughfares of golden light, Though later when the afternoon is failing To dusk they will sail back when the slow moon Slips up a crimson sky, but now they move Serene above our pastures as though noon And pastures were the things that such birds love. The shadows flit among Ihe clover-tops— Gull shadows turning the soft flowers dark, But when the arras of the evening drops, Velvet upon the sea, the wings embark Bearing a music westward past the bars And reefs to sleep under a sky of stars. —Harold Vinal.