My Juggins, see: the pasture green, <br />Obeying Nature's kindly law, <br />Renews its mantle; there has been <br />A thaw. <br />The frost-bound earth is free at last, <br />That lay 'neath Winter's sullen yoke <br />'Till people felt it getting past <br />A joke. <br />Now forth again the Freshers fare, <br />And get them tasty summer suits <br />Wherein they flaunt afield and scare <br />The brutes. <br />Again the stream suspects the keel; <br />Again the shrieking captain drops <br />Upon his crew; again the meal <br />Of chops <br />Divides the too-laborious day; <br />Again the Student sighs o'er Mods, <br />And prompts his enemies to lay <br />Long odds. <br />Again the shopman spreads his wiles; <br />Again the organ-pipes, unbound, <br />Distract the populace for miles <br />Around. <br />Then, Juggins, ere December's touch <br />Once more the wealth of Spring reclaim, <br />Since each successive year is much <br />The same; <br />Since too the monarch on his throne <br />In purple lapped and frankincense, <br />Who from his infancy has blown <br />Expense, <br />No less than he who barely gets <br />The boon of out-of-door relief, <br />Must see desuetude,—come let's <br />Be brief. <br />At those resolves last New Year's Day <br />The easy gods indulgent wink. <br />Then downward, ho!—the shortest way <br />Is drink.<br /><br />Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/solivitur-acris-hiemps/
