That it was not at all a good day for a rink,
Save perhaps for a venturesome few.
But they would go and skate, unfit though it was,
And cut figures so neat and so round,
When in turning round sharply, too sharply, alas!
They slipped and then—fell to the ground.
And such, I exclaimed, is the result of a whim,
That might, could, and should have been saved,
Regardless of falling and breaking a limb,
They brave what should ne’er have been braved.