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