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Spring Pome
AD SEXTIUM
Horace: Book II, Ode 4.
“Solvitur acris hiems grata—”
Horace: Book II, Ode 4.
“Solvitur acris hiems grata—”
The backbone of winter is shattered to pieces;
The breezes are balmy that blow from the west;
The farmer his cows from the stable releases;
The ploughman gets up from his fireside domest;
No more are the meadows all icy and snowy;
Come columns on Mathewson, Sweeney and Kling;
The strawberry shortcake is heavy and doughy—
’Tis Spring!
The breezes are balmy that blow from the west;
The farmer his cows from the stable releases;
The ploughman gets up from his fireside domest;
No more are the meadows all icy and snowy;
Come columns on Mathewson, Sweeney and Kling;
The strawberry shortcake is heavy and doughy—
’Tis Spring!
Now Venus, the w. k. Cytherean,
Cavorts Isadorably under the moon,
Assisted by choruses gracile, nymphean,
She dances a measure that’s wholly jejune.
’Tis time to divert one’s estraying attention
To bonnets embowered with every old thing—
Fruits, myrtle and parsley—again I must mention
’Tis Spring!
Cavorts Isadorably under the moon,
Assisted by choruses gracile, nymphean,
She dances a measure that’s wholly jejune.
’Tis time to divert one’s estraying attention
To bonnets embowered with every old thing—
Fruits, myrtle and parsley—again I must mention
’Tis Spring!
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