Children’s Verses

Waikato Times, Volume 124, Issue 20734, 18 February 1939, Page 21 (Supplement)

Children’s Verses

THE WHITE ROAD TO THE SEA I shall get up in the morning, If Jim will come with me. And take the little winding road, The white road to the sea. The school is closed and empty For six weeks and a day; This is the golden summer-time, When boys are sent to play. All day long in the sunshine! All day long toy the sea! Oh, that’s the life for boys like us— The life for Jim and me. —E. Stella Mead. THE LITTLE WAVES OF BREFFNY The grand road from the mountain goes shining to the sea, And there is traffic in it, and many a horse and cart; But the little roads of Cloonagh are dearer far to me, And the little roads of Cloonagh go rambling through my heart.

A great storm from the ocean goes shouting o’er the hill, And there is glory in it and terror on the wind: But the haunted air of twilight is very strange and still, And the little winds of twilight are dearer to my mind. The great waves of the Atlantic sweep storming on their way, Shining green and silver with the hidden herring shoal; But the little waves of Breffny have drenched my heart in spray. And the little waves of Breffny go stumbling through my soul. —Eva Gore-Booth. PUZZLED I peeped into a shining thing To see what I could see, And there, right close beside me, sat A puppy just like me I He 6tared at me; I stared at him; We sat still as could be; But when I cocked my ear at him. He cocked his ear at me! I touched his nose, and it was cold— All puppi&s are, I’ve found. And when I barked at him, he barked, But never made a sound! Althogh I tried a dozen ways, I could not closer get; And where he came from, where he w-ent, I haven't found out yet! —D. M. Moore. SAMMY, THE SNAIL t4 Oh dear, what a bother!” said Sammy the snail; ‘‘l fear I shall never out of this pail. I slept all the night in a strawberry bed, And woke up this morning with pains in my«head. And how I came into this horrible •place, I haven't a notion—hut now for the race.”

It took him an hour to climb to the top, And the edge was so slippery, he fell over plop! Just then came a thrust, with his head on one side, So quick that there wasn’t a moment to hide. Tap-tap on his anvil went crashing a shell, And that was the end of our poor Samuel. —Dorothy Baker. FARMS What jolly things are farms! They’re many things in one; I could not count their charms From now’ till set of sun. They’re lambs and sheep in pens, They’re sties of pigs and sows, They're yards of cocks and hens, They're byres of calves and cows, They’re fields of grass and corn, They're gardens with a wall, Wh-ere cabbages are born, And beans and peas and all. They’re dairies clean and cool, They’re duck-ponds round and green, They’re sheds where every tool Of every sort is seen; They’re barns and harness rooms. Full of delightful smells, They're borders full of blooms, They're ladders, pumps and wells, They’re lofts of which one makes Great play-rooms full of fun, They’re kitchens where the farm-wife bakes Her loaves and pies and little cakes, And always gives you one. —Eleanor Farjeon.