Poems (Strong)/Boreas

by Laura Coster Strong

BOREAS

With roar of joy and whistle shrill,
Old Boreas comes down the hill.

He stays nor stops for any one;
He's evidently out for fun.

The little leaves, with laugh and sweep,
He drives ahead like frightened sheep,

And gives yon cowherd, lean and lank,
A sudden but decided spank.

I remonstrate: "Oh, Boreas,
What means this play uproarious?"

In answer to my mild surprise,
He flings the dust into my eyes,

And as I hold on to my clothes,
He sharply tweaks my upturned nose,

Then rustles off, just as he came,
As if in search of larger game.

The clothes on line, with fluttering tapes,
He twists into the queerest shapes;

John's trousers white, so lank and flat,
Look suddenly puffed out with fat,

And dance a can-can on the breeze,
In rhythm with the swaying trees.

My hose, that clothe a shapely calf,
Look fit to cover a giraffe;

My best white skirt with flounce of lace
He deftly wrenches from its place,

And tosses it adown the glen,
For me to find as best I can,

Then whistles in hilarious mood,
In manner too extremely rude.

Now on the house he plays a trick,
And gives it a resounding kick;

It starts and shivers in the blast;
The windows rattle loud and fast;

With arms around the chimney's base,
He almost shifts it from its place,

Then struts about in boisterous glee,
As though to say, "Just look at me!"

Long round the house he prowls in vain,
Then finds that old cracked window-pane;

Triumphantly he makes a dash
And blows the glass in with a crash;

With bound he enters, bangs the door,
And strews my writings on the floor,

Then whisks about, in furtive chase,
The live sparks in the fire-place.

I cry aloud, with anger rife:
"Oh, Boreas, I will tell your wife."

A sudden lull makes answer pat,
And seems to say, "Oh, no, not that."

I answer, in a softened mood:
"Go home at once then and be good,

For it is very plain to see,
Old Boreas, you are on a spree!"

STARS OF BETHLEHEM: JUNE 4, 1904