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.