Poems (Storrie)/January

by Agnes Louisa Storrie

For works with similar titles, see January.

January.

Oh! January! January! bind your ruffled hair
And look no longer at us with that bold and brazen stare,
And lift your feet from off the land that faints beneath your tread
And let us see if we are on our heels or on our head.
Oh molten maiden January! go back from whence you came,
Your kiss is but a scorching sear, your smile is but a flame,
You have racked us, you have wrecked us with your wild and wilful ways,
You have drawn us out, and worn us out through endless burning days,
We have shuddered at your footstep, we have fainted at your smile,
And yet, upon my word I think we've loved you all the while,
You have trampled on our feelings, you have 'most unhinged our minds
With your extra-ultra-inter-outer scorching, screeching winds,
You have melted us and stewed us in a limp and lukewarm rain,
And then dried us, yes and fried us, nice and hot and brown again,
We have cursed you for a termagant, we've sworn you are a shrew,
And yet, believe me, January, we have loved you too.
For you've given us feasts of colour when at evening you undressed
And threw your rose and saffron robes across the tidy west,
And I've seen your diamonds glitter on many a sultry night
And I knew the moon was leagued with you, so glorious was her light,
And the orchards knew your coming, and a luscious blush was born
Upon a million velvet cheeks to greet you every morn,
And you scatter gold about you—for in spite of all, I ween,
You come of ancient lineage mid are every inch a queen,
So try and prune your passions, and bind this golden rule
For crown about your regal brow, oh! January! Keep cool.