Page 46 - Poetry-Books

In Advance

Now Winter is fighting his battles
With many an icicle lance,
But I’m writing a “gentle spring” poem
Which the editors wish “in advance.”

It is full, as is usual, of “violets,”
It alludes to the “robin’s first peep,”
Though a blizzard’s a daily occurrence
And the snow-drifts are seven feet deep.

But the editors—singular creatures,
To whom I am bound hand and foot
Grasp at Father Time’s typical forelock,
Till it’s nearly pulled out by the root.

For they get ‘way ahead of the season,
In a manner most wily and arch;
So that while you are reading December
They finish the number for March.

And he who would hope for acceptance
Must strike up betimes with his tune,
And sing Harvest Home in Mid-Winter
And jingle his sleigh-bells in June.

So when my spring poem is finished,
No rest does my weary pen get;
I must write a review of a novel
Which isn’t itself written yet!

— Bessie Chandler (Century Magazine, 1886)

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