In the nonage of the year,
When anemones appear,
And the buffets of the breeze are soft as silk,
When each sparrow spars and heckles,
I begin to think of freckles,
And of bi-chloride of mercury and milk.
When the silver slanting shower
Hangs the almond-blossom bower
With a fringe of diamond dew and crystal link,
When the azure brooklet dimples
I begin to think of pimples,
And of benzoin and precipitated zinc.
When beneath the feathered breast
Lie the treasures of the nest,
When the sap begins to turn the birches red ;
When the lambs grow energetic
I apply a new cosmetic
Made of potash, camphor, glycerine and lead.
Then I care not if it snows,
I’ve a powder for the nose,
And a veil of chiffon warranted to cling ;
While my armour on I buckle,
I acknowledge with a chuckle
I’m hermetically sealed against the Spring.
