Spring

Ev’ry year erbout this time

I jest overbile with rhyme;

They’s a feelin’ in my soul

Thet I can’t noways control.

They’s a spring gits in my heel

Thet I kennot help but feel,

So I jest swell up an’ sing

On the gladsomeness uv spring.

I feel all uv twelve foot tall

An’ my head is fur from small,

While my chest is ten foot round

An’ a long way off the ground.

Whiskers p’intin’ tuds the skies,

Buzzom full uv parrerdise;

Feel jest like a bird awing

At the comin’ uv the spring.

When the grass gits good an’ green

An’ the pussy willer’s seen,

An’ the pipin’ uv the frogs

Comes frum down in Wheeler’s bogs,

An’ the lonely whipperwill

Stars a whippin’ ‘neath the hill

Then I know thet spring  hez sprung,

An’ I stop an’ sing a sung;

Spring a stanza loud an’ strong

On the gladsomeness of sprung.

Pra’ps my rhymes ain’t good an’ true,

An’ my meter’s some askew,

Still when comes this meller spring

I jest up an’ hafter sing.

B’ilin’ over, full uv rhyme

Ev’ry year erlong this time;

Can’t keep in my poetree,

So I let it out, yew see.

Good or bad, it’s got t’ come,

By the yard, like this, by gum!

April 13, 1902