Page 15 - 1912 February - To Dragma

82 TO DRAG MA OF ALPHA OMICRON PI

A SONG

There's a bonny bank on a little hill,
Where the sun ii. warm and the air is still.
Where I watch the filmy butterflies swing
To and fro in the arms of Spring,
And list to the brook as it hurries down
Crooning soft lullabies to the town,
And the meadow larks in the grasses long
Call me afar with alluring song—
"Hey, you mortal with down-cast eyes,
Come, fly away to the witching skies!
We'll sail with the sun as our pilot true
On a little white cloud adrift in the blue."

I hear what the daffodil fairies say
As they whisper the thoughts of early May—
I see the golden poppies bend.
Bowing and nodding, friend to friend,
And feel a honey-bee's downy breast
Brush my cheek in a saucy jest,
And curtained in by the grasses tall
I hear the birds all summer call,
"Hey, you mortal with down-cast eyes,
Come, fly away to the witching skies!
We'll sail with the sun as our pilot true
On a little white cloud adrift in the blue."

MARTHA RICE FURLONG, Sigma, U . C , '04.