In Other Words/Spring Pome
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!
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!
’Tis time for the sacrifice sacred to Faunus— He may get our lambkin, he may get our goat.O Sextius, ere death shall have wholly withdrawn us, Take this from Horatius, your favorite pote;Soon Pluto will cail you, at some unforeseen time, You'll go, be you journalist-jester or king,You can’t get away from it. But, in the meantime,’Tis Spring!