December 13 - 19, 2015: Issue 244
Southern Hemisphere Summer Solstice. (Australia, New Zealand, South America, Southern Africa). December Solstice 2015: December 22, at 3:49 PM.
Down the meadow lane Summer browses,
Lingers over the brook to comb her hair,
Dawdles over the tumbling falls deciding
Which frock of mist to wear.
Drowsily she sways among the flowers.
Nibbles on wild mint and watercress.
Then languidly she seeks the shadowed forest
To change her daytime dress.
Finally just at twilight she emerges
Fresh as clean wind, her amber curls piled high.
Glint of sunset over cameo features.
Dark eyes shy.
Gracefully with a light and airy rhythm
Summer twirls her skirts in a cloudy spin,
And waltzes all night long in a meadow ballroom
To the tune of a cricket's violin.
Poem of the Week. (1951, November 6). Queensland Times(Ipswich) (Qld. : 1909 - 1954), p. 4 Edition: Daily. Retrieved fromhttp://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article118221683
Now once more the tameless winds have come-
Wet sea-winds making smoke-drift of sand,
And angry, dry winds from the patient land
Breathing fire up against still air.
- Dun coloured roads, mirage smeared and hot,
Are marked with the feet of Summer walking in.
When Jacarandas turn down from the sky
And fail in mute tongued bells towards the earth.
When the laughing bloomed Bauhinias fade and die,
And when Light lingers like a butterfly,
You know that Spring is saying good-bye.
There are stars coming closer in the night,
And there's the ever lonely arrow-flight
Of long winged calling birds migrating.
All these things because of the world's gyrating
—JEAN J. LAIDLAW.
Poem of the Week:. (1946, November 16). The Telegraph(Brisbane, Qld. : 1872 - 1947), p. 2 Edition: SPORTS FINAL. Retrieved fromhttp://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article187260119
SHE wears a bathing suit of blue,
And to the beach she goes,
With pretty giggles of delight,
To dip her dainty toes.
She dabbles in the jade-green pools;
She wades along the sand;
She races with the racing waves.
And shouts, "The water's grand!"
She lets the ripples of the surf
About her ankles play,
And laughs when breaks the pearly foam
Into a jewelled spray! . . .
She counts the silver sails that pass
Against the distant sky;
She dances with the billows bright,
But keeps her powder dry!
Surf Siren. (1930, March 1). The Brisbane Courier (Qld. : 1864 - 1933), p. 22. Retrieved from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article21523666
IN a garment woven of morning mist,
In each cool valley that lies,
She awaits the bliss of the sun's first kiss,
With the shadows of dreams in her eyes.
She laughs in the roar of the thundering surf,
And the lilt of the wind in the trees,
In the noontide heat she is sung to sleep,
By the hum of a thousand bees.
In the mystic silence of purple nights,
When great stars blaze above,
And the Cross flames white in the heart of the night,
Throbs the heart of the land I love.
Australia land of the golden grain,
Land most happy and dear,
Thy promise uphold of wealth untold,
Advance, Australia fair
— By JUNE MANNING (16)
"Ranelagh," Darling Point-road, Edgecliff.
PRIZE POEM. (1929, June 16). Sunday Times (Sydney, NSW : 1895 - 1930), p. 3 Section: COLOURED COMIC SECTION. Retrieved from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article131629823
BY THE SEA COAST.
Down by the sea coast in the gloaming .
Where the surf breaks on the land,
Down here the waves are ever foaming
Over the rocks and sifting sand;
Swiftly the waves are coming and going,
A fringe of froth on their green crest showing,
Till they dash on the rocks, flinging and throwing
Their spray high in colors grand.
Alone I sit where the spray comes splashing,
Flung from the green waves troubled crest,
That comes with a roar on the grey rocks dashing
And is flung back again on its heaving breast.
Love, I know thou art calmly sleeping,
Undisturbed by the moaning or leaping
Of the snow-capped waves that are boldly sweeping
Over the lonely bed of rest.
The sun has set though his rays still redden
With purple tints the western sky,
The same as he sat as in years that have fled in
The march of time, then my hopes were high.
Love, it is many a long weary year
Since last I stood at the sea board here
And then saw I on the horizon, radiant beneath the sky
The ship that bore thee was sailing by
Her sails were set as she ploughed the foam,
And parted the waves of the billowy sea
Bringing thee nearer thy future home,
Where I waited, my love, long years for thee,
Love, then my fancy its flight was winging
To that Irish home in memory clinging,
To the emerald hills, to the clear streams singing,
Where oft thou has wandered alone with me.
But that night the storm king mustered his forces,
Rallied the ranks of the ocean swell,
And in the maddening rush of his great white horses,
That leaped and plunged, rose and fell.
On the barren reefs where boiling and seething,
The foam leaped up at his savage breathing,
And the cables broke of the good ship, leaving
Her to drift where the billows fell.
On that grim grey crag with its head uplifted
Out of the waters, sullen and steep,
For in the wild midnight the good ship drifted,
And all went down in the restless deep.
Love; many hearts were torn asunder,
When the doomed ship went swiftly under,
And thou hast found thy bed in the swirl out yonder,
The tangle wreck for thy winding sheet.
Oh, still are the surges moaning and leaping.
Still the waves foam in sullen glee,
But, oh, my lost one, thou art calmly sleeping,
From the storm-king's wrath thou art ever free.
Love, we were parted without a meeting,
Without an embrace or without a greeting,
But I know thou art safely in the keeping
Of One who rules over land and sea.
It was hard to part, but He knoweth best
Who ruleth over the land and sea
He giveth His own beloved ones rest,
He hath given that sweet rest to thee.
Love, I would long that rest to share,
But I have a life to live, its sorrows to bear,
And I have one sweet hope that In Heaven fair,
We'll meet when the Redeemer calls on me.
-Broadford. CULLAS ADOBE.
ORIGINAL POETRY. (1892, June 9). Kilmore Free Press(Kilmore, Vic. : 1870 - 1954), p. 1 Edition: MORNING.. Retrieved fromhttp://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article57940095
Park Bench Philosophers
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