Classic Poem

I.

O H ! to be in England
Now that April's there,
And whoever wakes in England
Sees some morning " in despair;
There's a horrible fog i' the heart o' the town,
And the greasy pavement is damp and brown;
While the rain-drop falls from the laden bough,
In England — now!

II.

" And after April when May follows, "
How foolish seem the returning swallows.
Hark! how the east wind sweeps along the street,
And how we give one universal sneeze!
The hapless lambs at thought of mint-sauce bleat,
And ducks are conscious of the coming peas.
Lest you should think the Spring is really present,
A biting frost will come to make things pleasant,
And though the reckless flowers begin to blow,
They'd better far have nestled down below;
An English spring sets men and women frowning,
Despite the rhapsodies of Robert Browning.