All, all, except, come sun, come cold,
They're bound to blossom when they're told.
I trust them not, but when it's fair
I note in garb delectable
Sophronia driving out for air
With parent most respectable.
And when she leaves her furs at home
I say the season's ripening some.
Successive hats, new brought from France,
Denote to me the sun's advance,