Catoctin Clarion

A
COUNTRY SCHOOL.

Pretty and pale and tired
She sits in her stiff-backed chair.
While the blazing summer sun
Shines in on her soft brown hair,
And the little brook without,
That she hears through the open door,
Mocks with its murmur cool
Hard bench and dusty floor.

It seems an endless round—
Grammar and A. B. C.:
The blackboard and the sums;
The stupid geography ;
When from teacher to little Jim
Not one of them cares a straw.
Whether "John" is in any "case,"
Or Kansas in Omaha.

For Jimmy's bare brown feet
Are aching to wade in the stream,
Where the trout to his luring bait
Shall leap with a quick, bright gleam;
And his teacher's blue eyes stray
To the flowers on the desk hard by,
Till her thoughts have followed her eyes
With a half unconscious sigh—

Her heart outruns the clock,
As she smells their faint sweet scent
But when have time and heart
Their measure in unison blent?
For time will haste or lag
Like your shadow on the grass,
That lingers far behind,
Or flies when you fain would pass.

Have patience, restless Jim,
The stream and fish will wait;
And patience, tired blue eyes—
Down the winding road by the gate,
Under the willow shade,
Stands some one with fresher flowers;
So turn to your books again.
And keep love for the after hours.

—G.A. Salter.