Never Again

Image from Quote a Gentleman

NEVER AGAIN.

The poets sing
Of gentle spring
In language that is rich
They hand a bluff
And sell the stuff
To magazines and sich.
They rave and shout
And rhyme about
The fragrance of the air,
And of the joy
Without alloy
That lingers everywhere.
But when it snows
And rains and blows
And does a dozen stunts
With hail and sleet,
and lightning sheet
and does ’em all at once;
When nature drops
And deftly flops
A back-hand somersaults
I think right now
You will allow
It’s time to call a halt.
My lyre is still
And never will
Twang for you as of yore
Oh, gentle spring
You fickle thing
I’ll boost your game no more.

Eau Claire Leader (Eau Claire, Wisconsin) Mar 16, 1912

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