All On An April Morning.

The teacher was wise and learned, I wis, All nonsense she held in scorning, But you never can tell what the primmest miss Will do of a bright spring morning. What this one did was to spread a snare For feet of a youth unheeding, As March, with a meek and lamb-like air, To its very last hour was speeding. Oh, he was the dullard of his class, For how can a youth get learning With his eyes aye fixed on a pretty lass And his heart aye filled with yearning? "Who finds 'mong the rushes which fringe a pool," She told him, "the first wind blossom, May wish what he will"—poor April fool, With but one wish in his bosom. Her gray eyes danced—on a wild-goose chase He'd sally forth on the morrow, And, later, she'd laugh in his sombre face, And jest at his words of sorrow. But penitence and a troubled mind Were fruits of the night's reflection; After all, he was simple, and strong, and kind— 'Twas wrong to flout his affection. They met on the hill as she walked to school; He said, unheeding her blushes, "Here's the early flower your April fool Found growing among the rushes. "Take it or leave it as you will"— His voice ringing out so clearly Awoke in her heart a happy thrill— "You know that I love you dearly." Day-dreams indulged as she taught the school Held lovers kneeling and suing; "Take it or leave it"—her April fool Was masterful in his wooing. He gave her the flower—she gave him a kiss— His suit she had long been scorning; But you never can tell what the primmest miss Will do of a bright spring morning.