JULY

Red rockets skyward rush pell-mell

And fill the night with noise and smell.

The stars of Heaven look down, and say:

"So this is Independence Day!

Poor earth-born stars, it makes us sad

To see your fire work like mad

To make a Human Holiday.

Where is your independence, pray?"—

Whereat I woke—my fire was low,

My pipe was out. Said I: "Heigho!

I never thought of it that way,

I'll give them both a holiday."