The Weber Literary Journal Of Sorrow I saw a little maiden just as pretty as coud be A-sitting in a little lonely nook. But alas, she sobbed most loudly and her silver tears ran down, So I stopped, and then her pretty hand I took. "Why do you weep so sadly, little maid?" I bravely asked; "Tour sobs and sighs I really cannot stand. Come, let us walk together, 'tis a lovely day of Spring." But she only sobbed and pulled away her hand. 111 daren't, sir" she whimpered; "Oh, I really am afraid! For in Spring such awful things they say and do." "In Spring? My little maiden, you are surely all unstrung For in Spring, is when most everyone does woo." "Oh, no," she cried, despairing; "Sir, that is not what I mean." She drooped her head a bit to hide the blushes, "In Spring the flowers have pistils and the grass begins to shoot And then, oh, sir, 'tis then that the bullrushes." 24 The Weber Literary Journal The Siren By Juanita Ramsay. Spring is come With her million wiles Her April tears And Maytime smiles. She sings to some But tortures me; When she beckons I am not free. I long for her coming, But see her with dread, She crushes me With her lightsome tread. When she sobs I ache with pain, Bitterest melancholy falls With each drop of rain. But she is not hurt, She smiles again; She's only teasing She vamps my pen. Leniency for youth Oh, Spring! Release my soul, You haunting thing! 25