Let robes diaphanous succeed
Dense garments made of fur,
And overcoats maintain the lead—
Among the things that were!
The wisely-rented sealskin sacque,
By many a dame possessed,
Be quickly relegated back
To its moth-haunted chest!
While every portly alderman,
In linen suit arrayed,
Manipulates the palm-leaf fan
And seeks the cooling shade;
And he perspires who not in vain
Suggests his funny squibs,
By poking his unwelcome cane
In other people's ribs.
Who dares to fling opprobrium
On January now?
As to a potentate we come
With reverential bow,
Because it doth not yet appear
That Time hath ever seen
The ruler of th' inverted year
In more benignant mien.
O Boreas! do not lie low—
That is, if "lie" thou must—
Upon our planet; do not blow
With fierce and sudden gust,
But come so gently, tenderly—
As come thou surely wilt—
That we may have sweet dreams of thee,
Beneath "our crazy quilt!"
Sweet Peas.
By helpful fingers taught to twine
Around its trellis, grew
A delicate and dainty vine;
The bursting bud, its blossom sign,
Inlaid with honeyed-dew.
Developing by every art
To floriculture known,
From tares exempt, and kept apart,
Careful, as if in some fond heart
Its legume germs were sown.
So thriving, not for me alone
Its beauty and perfume—
Ah, no, to rich perfection grown
By flower mission loved and known
In many a darkened room.