ON THE FIRST GREEN CHAIR.
Reach it, attendant; wicked winter flies off:
Place it with pomp for me to sit and stare
Up at the sun who banquets us with cries of
"Chair!"
Long have we pined in darkness most uncanny:
Now to Hyde Park return its gauze of gold,
Jewels of crocus and enhancements mani-
-fold.
Welcome, delicious zephyr, blithe new-comer,
Urging to purchase patent-leather boots,
Hats of a virgin glossiness, and summer
suits.
Welcome, attire of carnival-carousers,
Suddenly bursting on the 'wildered view.
Mine—I don't mind confessing it—are trousers
new,
These that, serene in atmosphere serenest,
Droop o'er a Chair, whose emerald taunts the trees—
Green are the leaves, and greener than the greenest
Peas!
All things must end: to-morrow may be icy:
Wither too soon the joys that freshest are;
End will sweet summer reveries, and my ci-
gar.
Ends too that master-piece of Messrs. HYAM
Bashfully hinted at in line sixteen;
Green was the Chair I sat on—and now I am
green!