The Yearly Dozen
THE YEARLY DOZEN
The slow worry of bright empty January,
Lies here under snow-ridden
Cold-fingered February on a frozen levee,
Endures embattled days with
March’s gales around the gables;
April’s gala fields of daffodils,
And a doubtful vision that may be
Green May’s glory of grass,
With flowering, butterflied June,
Before July’s shimmering mirage
Fills the buzzing song
Of busy August’s hot cities cursed;
While golden September lies all around,
Appled October dozes with baskets heavy,
Stacked in barns by Cinderella
November, maidservant of December -
Silver December dappling all the ground
With dark sparkling glass dash.
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