Too torrid e'en to laugh!
I know this sounds like treason—
I do not care one dime—
It's much too hot for reason,
And far too warm for rhyme!
[IN AN OLD CITY CHURCH.]
O
When biting and bleak was the air,
Too torrid e'en to laugh!
I know this sounds like treason—
I do not care one dime—
It's much too hot for reason,
And far too warm for rhyme!
O
When biting and bleak was the air,