“Yes,” said January, firmly. “Always the al—”
But a little nickel clock caught him just there, so he remarked instead:—
“Always the alphabet to me
Is like a happy family.
They work in groups, they work in pairs,
But each one has his little airs:
R runs and romps, and so does S,
And Z is full of foolishness;
H always smiles, and A is jolly;
G’s somehow sort of melancholy.
Q sticks his tongue into his cheek
And always waits for U to speak;
D’s fat and lazy; so is C;
And O makes funny mouths at me.
Among the pleasant alphabet
It’s hard to pick and choose—and yet,
When all is said, I can’t deny
(You’ll understand), my choice is I!”
FEBRUARY
II
FEBRUARY
Pisces
They went to the February place:
’Twas fashioned, with curious art,
Of colored sugar and paper lace,
With a front door shaped like a heart.
A trim little, slim little maid within
Was rolling out cookies crisp and thin;
She blew them a kiss through the window wide,
And bade them step inside.