Contemplation on Early Spring

The damp world waltzes to the clear
Ring of rain, winter's promenade
From royal court to beggar's corner's bed,
And spring, December's long-time captive, here
Begins its dance, not the measured trade
Of winter's melancholy, but instead,

The turbulent jive and swing that leaves its breath
Upon the window panes and downs its gin
Between the rhythmic footfalls of its rave,
The raucous neighbor who brings cold's early death,
Then bears its funeral pyre as next of kin,
Amidst the din of music, to its grave.

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