THE FIRST OF APRIL 109 



When the ground's all bald where the hayrick stood, 

 And the crick's riz, and the breeze 



Coaxes the bloom in the old dogwood, 

 And the green gits back in the trees - 

 I like, as I say, in sich scenes as these, 

 The time when the green gits back in the trees. 



When the whole tail-feathers o j winter-time 

 Is all pulled out and gone, 



And the sap it thaws and begins to climb, 

 And the sweat it starts out on 



A feller's forrerd, a-gittin' down 

 At the old spring on his knees 



I kind o' like jes' a-loaferin' roun', 

 When the green gits back in the trees 

 Jes' a-potterin' roun' as I durn please 

 When the green, you know, gits back in the trees. 



THE FIRST OF APRIL 



BY MORTIMER COLLINS 



Now, if to be an April fool 



Is to delight in the song of the thrush, 

 To long for the swallow in air's blue hollow, 



And the nightingale's riotous music-gush, 

 And to painted vision of cities Elysian 



Out away in the sunset-flush 

 Then I grasp my flagon and swear thereby, 

 We are April fools, my love and I. 



