I sit with my feet in the oven,
My nose close up to the pipe ;
I 'm as jokey as any spring robin,
That 's fresh and is rather unripe.
I still wear my ear muffs and cap ;
I still to my overcoat cling ;
Still I feel it my duty to sit
And warble of ; Beautiful Spring.
But my warble is husky and harsh,
And my melody suffers from cracks ;
For the froglets down there in the marsh
Are shivering with humps on their backs.
Of my country I 'm awfully proud ;
So I close to the cooking stove cling,
And lilt, like a dog in a shroud,
Of the coming of Beautiful Spring.
The neck of old winter's giraffic,
It reaches far out into May ;
O, come with your sonnet seraphic,
Sweet robin, come early, I pray.
But be sure and put overshoes on ;
Bring an overcoat over your wing,
And a bag full of mufflers and socks,
When you herald Ethereal Spring.
But still will I manfully sit,
While I close to the cooking stove cling ;
In the voice of a frosted tomtit
Will I sing of Ethereal Spring.
Flowers of Spring! ! Gentle Spring. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
Wonderful Lilting & semiserious in the manner of Thomas Grey...
For the froglets down there in the marsh Are shivering with humps on their backs. a fine poem. tony
A nice narration of spring activities. Thanks for sharing.
A wonderful poem that takes us from the frigid depths of Winter to the hope of a much warmer Spring. Great imagery. Thanks for posting. : -)
nice write up more ink to your pen. the start of thig right from the spring
A nice poem on spring. Loved it very much. Thanks for sharing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Such a great poem by Robert Kirkland Kernighan.........................