The Newtown bee. (Newtown, Conn.) 1877-current, 1891-04-03
NUMBER II.
Springtime.

The woodchucks, from their Winters sleep,
Come forth and DER the hillsides creep.
Far off, we hear the foxes bark
And, from the trees, the meadow lark
Sends out its cheerful, well known voice
And helps the awakening world rejoice.
The robin red breasts cheerful song
In notes comes to us, clear and strong.
How sweet the bluebird's cheerful notes,
AS warbled from their tiny throats.
On evening air, clear, long and shrill
Come sweet notes of the whip -poor-win.
From chimney's dusky throat is heard
The thunder of the chimney bird.
The quail, who on the fence does set,
VIII whistle, shrill and loud, "more wet.''
In far off wood, we hear ''per-wink"
And soon will come the ssbob-o link"
Far up o'erhead, with noisy cry,
In order, fiocks of wild geese fly.
The capering lamb; the frisky calf;
The schoolboy with his hearty laugh;
The blithesome girl,so full of hope,
Who plays ''jack stones or jumps the rope;
The gobbler, strutting round so proud,
Who gobbles long and gobbles loud;
The quacking ducks, that never rest,
In early morning quack their best;
While proudly round the barn yard sail
The peacocks with their bright, long tail.
Inc nuSkTdI, Wltn IT'S wealth. OF
Does, from it's Winter ice bed, stir
And with its little, bead like eyes,
Look sharply round to watch some prize.
The toad, in garden, shows its head;
So stupid now, it seems half dead
But, when he feels the warmth OF sun,
How quickly for the flies he'll run.
The house cat watching at some hole,
To catch the first unlucky mole;
The fluffy chicks with mother hen;
The little piggies in the pen;
The boy who flies his long tailed kite,
While standind ON some lofty height;
The little girl who makes mud pies;
The barefoot boy of larger size;
The partridge in the woods that drum;
All, all proclaim that Spring has come.
School boys, from willow, bark do take
And, with their jack knives, whistles make.
While little boy, with pin for hook
HES gaily off to some small brook;
With crooked alder snag for pole,
He'll patient stand by some deep hole;
Old backing box he'll have for bait
And there he'll fish and patient wait,
Then carry home more fish at night
Than he who comes from city bright,
With patent bait box, rod and reel
And gaily dressed from head to heel.
The swamps will soon to US untold
Their wealth of cOwslips tipped with gold
And, from beneath some Swampy bog,
Wen hear the croaking of the frog.
How gracefully the alders sag,
AS hang II ON boughs the blossomed "tag."
The pussy willows fall in line;
Their countless buds like silver shine.
The turtles voice is in the land;
Their mighty concert, oh how grand
The angler, with his girl, goes ont
With rod and reel, to fish for trout.
The loved and loving soon will HE
To some secluded spot, so shy,
And roam about through field and brush
To hear the singing of the thrush
And gather from their rocky nest
The choicest wild flowers and the best.
How quickly they spring beauty see,
Long side the frail anemone;
The adder tongue, whose graceful head,
Hangs dropping, by the brooklets bed;
The violets wild, whose dark, deep hue
Vies with the azure skies so blue;
While up the rocky sleeps they climb
To pluck the scarlet columbine
And romp DER hills with willing feet,
To gather the arbutus, sweet;
Then seat them in some shady nook
To watch the dancing, babbling brook,
Nor take much heed how time does fly,
While they plan on for "By and Bye"
And out of sight fast goes the sun
Before their talk they have half done.
How slowly homeward they will ride,
As warm hearts patter side by side;
Nor who could blame, if joy like this
Was wound up with bouncing kiss.
Now we, who've been there, all do know,
Although it was so long ago,
How much OF joy such trips do bring,
To warm young hearts when comes the Sprin
Il e. L. johnson.