Works in the Herald 1936
THE SIREN FLAPPER- SPRING
Old winter blusters up and down the land,
Weeping and puffing in a senile rage;
Snowy is his head, and heavy his great hand
That shakes and rends the tortured foliage
Of forest tree and garden shrub. His breath
Brings to all tenderer beauty frozen death.
Jealous of all young life, he storms, he cries
Age's mean envy 'neath his lowering skies.
But, stepping softly from the storm-crowned hills,
Comes now the maiden all have yearned to meet.
Her bright young hair is gold with daffodils,
Shy primulus start up around her feet;
Birds flock about her, singing. Her shy gaze
Rests on old angry Winter as she says:
"Come Daddy, rest awhile. Why must you rave?
Not so do nice old gentlemen behave."
"Gold-digger!" he retorts. "My wealth is locked
Deep in hard earth from those soft, thieving hands
Not by your blandishments is stern thrift mocked,
Or treasure filched from out my ice-bound lands."
She strokes his scanty hair. Her lovely eyes
Look into his, seeking to mesmerise
This fierce old dotard. Yet again he stirs
To shout, and tear his wrinkled hand from hers.
"Harpy!" he mutters. But again he nods
As, with a low-voiced crooning lullaby -—
Learned long ago from happy, careless gods -—
She tempts sleep into that old, rheumy eye . . .
Now, suddenly she smiles; and all around
Spring magic treasure from the sun-drenched ground.
"Come now, my merry ones! Here is our chance!
Old Father Winter sleeps. On with the dance!"
Herald, 24 August 1936