Page:The purple pennant (IA purplepennant00barb).pdf/17



EYS,'" murmured Fudge Shaw dreamily, "'please'—'knees'—'breeze'—I've used that—'pease'—'sneeze'—Oh, piffle!" His inspired gaze returned to the tablet before him and he read aloud the lines inscribed thereon:

O Beauteous Spring, thou art, I ween,

The best of all the Seasons,

Because you clothe the Earth with green

And for numerous other reasons.

You make the birds sing in the trees,

The April breeze to blow,

The Sun to shine"

"'The Sun to shine,'" he muttered raptly, "'The Sun to shine'; 'squeeze'—'tease'—'fleas'—Gee, I wish I hadn't tried to rhyme all the lines. Now, let's see: 'You make the birds'"