IV

2 0 00

IV

’Tis now the season! Idlers all,

Epicurean philosophers,

Ye men of fashion cynical,

Of Levshin’s school ye followers,

Priams of country populations

And dames of fine organisations,

Spring summons you to her green bowers,

’Tis the warm time of labour, flowers;

The time for mystic strolls which late

Into the starry night extend.

Quick to the country let us wend

In vehicles surcharged with freight;

In coach or post-cart duly placed

Beyond the city-barriers haste.