“In the Spring”

In the spring the youngster’s hearing isn’t tuned for mother’s call;

All he wants to hear is cheering, and the umpire’s loud, “Play Ball!”

In the spring the maiden’s fancy isn’t working rugs or mats;

She is out with Nell and Nancy trying on a bunch of hats.

In the spring the young man’s vision turns from musty sums and books,

Turns to woods and fields elysian and to lakes and trouting brooks.

In the spring the housewife happy pulls and sweeps and lugs and tugs,

While her hubby cross and snappy falls to beating mats and rugs.

In the spring the poets’ sighing for the things that cannot be!

O, but what’s the use of being and disgracing poetree?

March 17, ‘10