BALLADE OF SPRING CHICKENS

Spring comes—yet where the dream that glows?

There only waves upon the lea

A lonely pear-bough where doth doze

A bird of green, and merely he:

Why weave of him our poetry?

Why of a Grackle need we sing?

Ah, far another fowl for me—

I seek Spring Chickens in the Spring.

Though May returns, and frisking shows

Her ankles through this white clad tree,

Alas, old Spring's gone with the rose,

Gone is all old romance and glee—

Yet still a joy remains to me—

Softly our lyric lutes unstring,

Far from this Grackle we shall flee

And seek Spring Chickens in the Spring!

Too soon Youth's mss must close,

(Omar) its rose be pot-pourri;

What of this bird and all his woes!

Catulla, I would fly to thee—

Bright bird of luring lingerie,

Of bushy bob, of knees aswing,

This golden task be mine in fee,

To seek Spring Chickens in the Spring!

Envoi

Prince, let us leave this grove, pardie,

A flapper is a fairer thing:

Let us fare fast where such there be,

And seek Spring Chickens in the Spring!

Angela Morgan

(Carefully lifting her Greek robe off the wet grass, and patting her fillet with one white glove, recites passionately.)