[Aquarius]
The _God_ whom Artists always grace,
By giving him a double face:
The _food_ divine, that's eat on high,
By all the inmates of the sky;
Also the _Liquor_, drank above,
Which Hebe hands, to mighty Jove;
_He_, who for fair Calypso's smile,
Forgot his wife, and native isle:
Now Thetis' _son_, who chose the strife,
Of warlike fame, instead of life:
That _island_, where we're always told,
The brass Colossus stood of old:
The _time_, no efforts can regain,
Tho' oft we spend its hours in vain.
Take the first letters and they'll tell
A month, when firing pleases well.