TO "GENERAL JANVIER."

At it, old warrior! do your worst! Here's Fevrier coming, moist and blowy, And any trench you leave for him Not saturated to the brim He will accommodate its thirst As in the days of Noë. But we, well-armed in every pore Against the tricks you mean to try on, Will stick it out through slush and slime, And bide, as best we may, our time Till General Mars begins to roar Just like a British lion. And ere his exit, like a lamb, The sloppy mess shall all be tidied, And (since I can't believe that K. Has said that things won't move till May) We shall step out, as Shem and Ham Did when the flood subsided. Spring! Ah, to what a sanguine view Thoughts of the vernal prime provoke us! Yet never in my whole career Can I recall a single year When I so much looked forward to The advent of the crocus. For with the Spring, when youth is free To execute its inward yearning, Like to a lark (or other bird) The soul of Thomas shall be stirred, And to Berlin I hope to see The young man's fancy turning. O. S.