Children’s Verses

Waikato Times, Volume 124, Issue 20821, 3 June 1939, Page 21 (Supplement)

Children’s Verses

THE HEDGEHOG We humans by the hedgehog arc In one respect outdom 1 . The hedgehog has a hist of spines, While we have only one. cssz A PLEASANT MAN The gentleman who cuts my hair Is such a very pleasant man; He looks so smooth and neat and bright— His hair is black, his coat is white. All spick and spanI sit before a looking-glass, And when he's ready to begin He wraps me in a funny cape And ties it on with strings of tape, Beneath my chin. His scissors crunch along my neck, So cold, and, oh, so very near, I'm sometimes just a bit afraid That if 1 moved the slightest shade He’d snip my ear. I feel the hair go trickling down. It often makes me want to sneeze, And when I’ve had a scenty spray He brushes all the bits away. And then I know he's going to say—“A shilling, please!”

OH, GREY AND TENDER IS THE RAIN Oh. grey and tender is the rain. That drips, drips on the pane I A hundred things come in the door, The scent of herbs, the thought of yore. I see the. pool out in the grass, A bit of broken glass; The red flags running wet and straight, Down to the little flapping gate. Lombardy poplars tall and three, Across the road I see; There is no loveliness so plain As a tall poplar in the rain. But oh, the hundred things and more, That come in at the door!— The smack of nTint, old joy, old pain, Caught in the grey and tender rain. —Lizette Woodworth Reese. SPRING IN WINTER In the Winter wood they say Sleeping Spring is laid away. Do you think it can be true? Overhead the dark clouds race, Yet—a little windswept space— That’s the blue. 0, poor Alder, black with frost, All your pretty raiment lost, Trampled into ooze and mud! Bronze lips parting show between Just a tiny speck of green— That’s a bud. Shall we find her if we seek There's a breath upon your cheek Flutters like a passing wing. Though you’re half inclined to cry. Yet. you laugh—you don't know why— That's the Spring. —W. Graham Robertson.

GOING TO THE BALL I met a robin in the wood, With scarlet waistcoat bright; Said he, “I'm going to the ball In Fairy Town to-night!” I met a little rabbit, too, In glossy coat of brown: “I’m going to the ball,” he said, “To-night, in Fairy Town!” I met a smart and saucy elf, He gave a little prance; “I’m off to Fairy Town,” he cried, “To see the fairies dance!” I met a fairy dressed in white, With dew-drops round her frock; “I’m going to the ball,” she said; “It starts at twelve o'clock!” —Joan Ryder. THE FAIRY TAILOR Sitting on the flower-bed beneath the hollyhocks I spied the tiny tailor who makes the fairies’ frocks; There he sat a-stitching all the afternoon, And sang a little ditty to a quaint wee tune: “Grey for the goblins, blue for the elves, Brown for the little gnomes that live by themselves, White for the pixies that dance upon the green, But where shall I find a robe to deck the Fairy Queen?” —Rose Fylcman (extract).