Gossip.

by Mona Gould.

Foreward

The two Monas, whose joint name has confused Gossip readers these long years, have finally come out on the Canadian scene as the two distinct people they are - Mona Gould, the poet, whose verse has charmed and intrigued, and Mona Clark, the editor, who brought this verse to Gossip's pages.

The two Monas hope that this collection has all the poems you have liked best.

Sincerely, Mona Clark Mona Gould

Apple Orchard

White as popcorn, was the tree And underneath it on the lea A little goat looked up at me.

Bright and wicked was his glance In that orchard's sweet expanse In a mocking sort of dance Moved his hooves.

He was Pan, and he was Spring With a sudden saucy spring Off he flew . . .

Just a shadow in the air . . .

Was he really ever there?

For all Ear-Pinners

There are some people Who delight In pinning people's ears Back tight.

I'd love to be on hand That day When things work out The other way!

To Snow ... or Not to Snow!

Feather down soft deep snow Feather down . . . I implore you.

The part of me that's Poet Simply adores you!

The part of me that's "working girl"

Equally abhors you!

Snow is like thistledown Filigree-ing trees: But waiting for street cars . . .

It's wet ankles and Knees!

Counsel

Heart, be very cautious now Remember . . . once before Love was like a bright room . . .

Then a slammed door!

In a Fit of Pique

If you have not learned to give proudly Do not prate to me of "love"!

There are those, who as children Clutch tight the bottom, of the candy-bag Saying "Help yourself"

But making very sure The gift is limited.

These children grow up to be Stingy lovers.

I have no patience with them!

It Doesn't Matter

It doesn't matter much to me About a person's family tree Or what his special vices are Or if he drives a custom car Or if his Clubs are old and formal As long as he is nice and normal!

Sherry

Sherry . . . twinkling in a little gla.s.s Warm as snared sunlight A pool of golden light To make a flight of dreams.

(I can see your eyes Twinkling back at the Sherry.

Merry as all "get out"!) Even when I am a very ancient lady And the decanter goes round I shall remember you with a sweet shock . . .

I'll be bound!

Last of the Line

Ah, primitive and hardy Our fathers were . . . of old . . .

But even on my brightest days I can't quite shower . . . cold!