[By one who is prepared to accept it like a patriot without
further protest.]
Now Spring comes laughing down the sky
To see her buds all busy hatching;
With tender green the woods are gay,
And birds, as is their April way,
Chirp merrily on the bough, and I
Chirp, too, because it's catching.
Full many a joy I must eschew
And to the tempter's voice "No! No!" say;
With taxes laid on all delights
Must miss, with other mirthful sights,
On Monday next my annual view
Of England's Art Expose.
I must forgo (and bear the worst
With what I can of noble calm) a
Pure bliss from which I only part
With horrid pain about the heart--
I mean the humour unrehearsed
Of serious British drama.
But, thank the Lord, I need not miss
The birds that in their leafy nook coo;
Young Spring is mine to taste at large,
The Ministry has made no charge
For earth that warms to April's kiss;
They haven't taxed the cuckoo! O. S.
* * * * *