We cannot hurry spring along
By writing dainty sonnets;
Nor will she quicken her approach
To greet be-flowered bonnets.
The children of the earth may coax
In accents strong and steady;
Fair spring will grant her presence here
When she gets good and ready.
Nor will the auto painted fresh
And bright for springtime touring,
Or light canoe upon the bank
Or on the stream alluring,
Or e’en the signs “Keep Off the Grass”,
The slightest bit affect her;
She will not hump herself because
We want her and expect her.
The anxious housewife, broom in hand
And head tied up, awaits her;
The baseball fan, who wants to dance
And shout again berates her.
But she, elusive, fanciful,
Holds off to chide and tease us;
She will not come a day too soon,
Although she knows ‘twill please us.
We cannot hurry spring at all
By songlets or by sonnets;
Nor will she hasten her approach
To meet ye mammoth bonnets’
In fact we dread to have her see
Such millenary gearing;
For fear that she might change her mind
And cancel her appearing.
March 7, ‘09
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