STROPHE.
O day of high career!
First of a month—nay more—first of a year!
A monarch-day, that hath indeed no peer!
Let huge Buzaglos glow
In ev’ry corner of the isle,
To melt away the snow:
And like to May,
Be this month gay;
And with her at hop—step—jump—play,
Dance, grin, and smile:
Ye too, ye Maids of Honour, young and old,
Shall each be seen,
With a neat warming patentiz’d machine!
Because, ’tis said, that chastity is cold!