In Other Words/From a Paragrapher's Garden of Verses
From a Paragrapher’s Garden of Verses
In winter, when I have to write,I hate to do my work at night;In summer, quite the other way,I hate to have to write by day.
What time the year is at the spring,I hate to work like anything;And in the days of early fallI sort of hate to work at all.
Oh, does it not seem hard to youThat people should have work to do?But I cannot afford to miss,And so I pen a pome like this.