Love and Springtime

LOVE AND SPRINGTIME. {For th_e Improvement Era.) Fair are the flowers of springtime, And sweet are the songs of the bird How balmy the breath of the mountains, Which the valley of beauty doth gird. Bright are the eyes of the maiden, And joyous the laugh of the lad, As they ramble over the hillside, With rare lilies and buttercups clad. Modest the blush of the maiden, So tender the gaze of the youth He leads her far down to the brooklet, To rest —Oh! they're fishing, forsooth! Caught are the fish, but one fair one Who furtively glances up stream Evading his bait, so he angles Till the day-light has faded to e'en. Soft are the sighs of the maiden He vows o'er and o'er to be true; She gives him her hand in the twilight, — And whispers "I" I know what don't you? — There by the oak and the willow, Shy tendrils entwining their feet, They're plighting their vows before heaven, While Love's angels bright vigils do keep. Ruth May Fox. Salt Lake City, Utah.