Poets Previous

Ho! What’s this, another gale?

Rain and snow and ice and hail,

Sleet and cold, and overcoats

Buttoned high round our throats,

Mittens, scarf, and overshoe

Noses pinched and frosty blue,

When we thought old winter king

Fairly in the lap of spring!

Fie on poets who have said

Winter was as good as dead;

Shame on rhymesters who have sang

Spring was coming with a bang;

Telling us to leave behind

Overcoats and all their kind.

Poets gay misleaders are

Hitching wagons to a star.

Back O, back to forests high!

Come again please, by and by.

March 4, ‘09