Spring the Fickle

We’re glad that spring has come although

     She handed us a bad one;

Each day we bear, since she’s been here,

     Has been for us a sad one.

Just when the birds began to sing,

     With no more snow to hex us,

The spring let go an awful blow

     Right in our solar plexus.

All day and night we cough and sneeze

     And bark and bawl and bellow;

We sweat and swear in grim despair,

     And life looks very yellow.

We wildly groan with aches and pains,

     And curse the fates completely;

And want to shoot the robin brute

     Because he sings so sweetly.

Oh how can spring be sweet and fair,

     And altogether pleasing,

Then cause our knob to swell and throb

     With coughing and with sneezing

How can she bear us up to heights

     Of poesy elysian,

Then knock us down beneath the frown

     Of nurse and cold physician?

March 26, ‘10