[Sidenote: Clock before the Sun.
[Illustration]
Too soon for dinner.
Between
Month and
Monarch
this difference
is just;
♂ ☿ ♄ ♈
the Month it is
_Au_gust,
the Monarch
Au_gust_.]
The _rain_ of terror's come—the horse to go
At a smart pace has made himself to smart;
'Tis bad enough to bear the shafts of woe,
But who would bear the shafts of such a cart!
What a nice party—twelve inside—to drag,
Each fat and full, and heavy as a dunce,
And all, besides the man wot drives the nag,
Holding the _rains_ together—all at once!
The horse is urged—most tired and half dead;
"Come up," they cry—when shall we get to town?
Fierce _pours_ the shower—_their pores_ are stopped instead,
The more they cry _come_ up—the rain _comes down_!
Now, you may see, by every sorry face,
The water party wails its wretched doom,
And in that cart—that wends with lingering pace,
Altho' there's little _room_, there's lots of _rheum_!