Anterotics

LAUGHS the happy April morn
Thro’ my grimy, little window,
And a shaft of sunshine pushes
Thro’ the shadows in the square.

Dogs are tracing thro’ the grass,
Crows are cawing round the chimneys,
In and out among the washing
Goes the West at hide-and-seek.

Loud and cheerful clangs the bell.
Here the nurses troop to breakfast.
Handsome, ugly, all are women . . .
O, the Spring—the Spring—the Spring!