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.