This hopeless, dull, catarrhic lyre—
Who can essay a Song of May?
O,
Plunge deep into nonsense profoundly poetical!
They sing and they shout about sunshine and greenery,
Of beauty and blossom and song-birds and scenery:
I own that my notion of May is a hazy one,
And don't think its weather is good for the Lazy One;
To go out of doors I have not the temerity—
Now May has set in with its usual severity!