Dear Editor:

Twas the morning of Easter when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse

The baskets were placed on the table with care

In hopes that Peter Cottentail soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

while visions of jelly beans danced in their heads.

And Mamma in her kerchiefs and I in my cap

Were soon to awake from a long spring's nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The sun on the breast of new fallen dew

Gave a lustery glow to the object so new,

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a cottontail rabbit so lovely so dear,

He had such a short tail and such fluffy feet.

I knew in a moment it must be old Pete.

More rapid than Eagles he hopped and he ran,

As he hurried as fast as he can.

So up to the porch steps old Peter he dashed

With a basketful of candy and Easter eggs stashed.

And then in a twinkling I heard by the door

His prancing, and pawing, and gnawing galore.

As I drew in my head and was turning around,

Through the window old Pete came with a bound.

He was covered with fur from his head to his feet,

And his coat was all tarnished with grass that old Pete,

A basket of eggs he had flung on his back,

And a bundle of candy he had in his sack.

His nose - how it twitched!

His floppy ears - how furry!

His tail was like cotton; his feet how merry.

His long floppy ears had a glittering glow,

And the fun on his body was white as the snow.

A very long carrot he held tight in his teeth,

And its leaves they encircled his head like a wreath.

He had a round face and a white furry belly

That shook when he hopped like a bowl full of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a beautiful hare,

And I laughed when I saw him I didn't care.

A twitch of his nose and a twist of his head

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word but went straight to his work,

And filled all the baskets; then turned with a jerk,

And laying a paw aside of his nose,

And giving a twitch, out the window his rose.

He sprang on his way, to the birds gave a whistle,

And away he hopped like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim 'ere he hopped through the thorn -

Happy Easter to all and to all a good morn.

Richard A. Alongi

Allentown, Pa. 18103